


Before We Evaporate

by crimsontheory



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Chopped, Cooking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Negotiated Kink, Orgasm Delay, Pool Sex, Reality TV, Under-negotiated Kink, Unnegotiated Kink, and tags are just spoilers anyway right?, but honestly it's hardly anything, i can't think of anything else to tag so hopefully i covered everything, i don't really like that tag so, is unnegotited even a word?, it's only five years but i thought i would tag it anyway, it's sub louis in case anyone is picky about that, just know that they do a kink without talking about it beforehand, light subspace, there's a bit in here that may be considered angst, which you shouldn't do irl, wow these tags make it seem a lot kinkier than it really is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-09 16:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10416411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsontheory/pseuds/crimsontheory
Summary: Louis Tomlinson; executive chef and owner of his own five star restaurant, been voted one of the top chefs in London, and has won several awards for his work in the kitchen. He’s always dreamed of being onChopped, but never believed it would actually happen. Until it does. Now that he’s officially made it onto the show, there’s one tall, curly haired distraction that might just ruin everything for him.Or the kinda sorta enemies to loversChoppedAU with far more smut than necessary.





	1. Appetizer

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is utter shit. Probably not what you want to see before going into a fic, but don't say I didn't warn you. I'm definitely not a good enough writer to have taken this on (I'm not a good writer in general) but I did it anyway because I hate myself. :)
> 
> For those of you who don't know what Chopped is, [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chopped_\(TV_series\)) is the Wikipedia page if you'd like to give that a quick little read. It can probably explain it better than I can. I know it only takes around a few hours to film an episode of Chopped, but I changed that up a bit just for the sake of this fic. I wanted the boys to be around each other for longer than a day. Also, this is fiction and I'm the author, so creative liberties and all that.
> 
> A huge, giant, massive thank you to Alex for creating an absolutely beautiful piece of art to go along with this! It's posted in the third chapter, but you can also see it [here.](http://oi66.tinypic.com/2cnfmms.jpg) I may have screamed when I first saw it because it's gorgeous and perfect and way better than anything I could have thought up myself. They were the loveliest, kindest person I could have worked with, not to mention incredibly talented! It was such a pleasure. Please go send them [some love!](http://louis-love.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Here is the bit where I get really sappy about Abby and thank her for reading this over for me and putting up with me constantly nagging her about it. If this fic turns out to be somewhat decent, it's all because of her to be honest. I was struggling with this so much more than I have ever struggled with a fic before, and if it weren't for Abby I would have just cried and given up. I'm eternally grateful for her and I'm so lucky to have her in my life. I would be stumbling in the dark without her. I love you so very much, my little peach. 
> 
> Now, after the longest author's notes ever, let's get on with the actual fic. Does anyone even read author's notes anymore, besides myself?
> 
> Title is taken from Fireflies (Light Messengers) by Saosin.

The lights are the hardest thing to get used to. Sure, the many cameras pointed directly at your face is a little awkward and nerve wracking, but the lights. They’re ridiculously bright. And you just have to sit there and smile, look good for the camera, and pretend like you aren't being blinded, like your eyeballs aren't about to melt right out of your head. 

The whole thing had come as a complete surprise. Louis has been watching _Chopped_ religiously since the very first episode of the first season. Yelling at the telly when a contestant would forget a basket ingredient or be risking way too much in the short amount of time allotted. Sitting on the edge of his seat listening to the judges critiques.

That's when Louis knew he needed to be on this show. He applied for every single season, had to go through rigorous training each time, and never heard anything back. After six seasons had come and gone, he didn't think it was ever going to happen. Until it did. 

His phone rang, a number flashing across the screen he didn't recognize. Turns out it was a correspondent for the Food Network offering him a slot on the seventh season of _Chopped_. He didn't even need a second to think it over. He accepted immediately. He called his mum in tears the second he hung up and they both cried together. Happy tears of course. Louis had finally made it. His dream had come true. 

The next day he called a meeting for all his employees at his restaurant. Not just the ones who work alongside him in the kitchen, but every single employee. The waitstaff and hostesses included. Louis loves all of his employees, he truly does. They're his second family.

He told them all the good news and everyone was ecstatic, incredibly happy for him. They celebrated with bottles of their finest champagne; well the ones of age of course. Louis wasn't about to have his restaurant shut down because he served alcohol to minors. Even after hours. 

Brian, his sous chef, is being left in charge for the month Louis will be gone. The filming takes place in London, thankfully the same city Louis resides in, the same city he has his restaurant, but it's on the complete opposite side of town. 

The contestants stay in a house provided by the show during the course of filming. Of course you aren't being held prisoner, you're allowed to leave the house, but not the city. And it's definitely against the rules to visit your home or your restaurant. But Louis knows Brian will take good care of it while he's away. His baby is in good hands. 

So Louis packed up everything he'd need into his suitcase, dropped his cat Winston off at the neighbours with a kiss to his head—he's really going to miss that guy—and ordered an Uber to give him a lift across town to the studio. 

He slides into the back when the car pulls up outside his building. And any other time Louis would be grateful for the driver trying to strike up a conversation, he hates awkwardly sitting in the back of an Uber when the driver won't talk. But right now he's not able to carry on a conversation because there is adrenaline thrumming through his body. It's like all his blood has been drained and his veins have been pumped full of excitement instead. He’s literally buzzing. He's going to be on _Chopped_. 

He has to show multiple forms of identification to be allowed into the lot once he arrives, but once inside the gates he hops into a waiting golf cart with the same correspondent who phoned him to offer him the position. Her name’s Leona, a cute petite blonde with red thick rimmed glasses and a spunky attitude, probably around Louis’ age, and he loves her already. She's in charge of him, his manager of sorts, for the duration of the month. 

The lot isn't all that big, just a few buildings with the house tucked away in the back. She drives past the building where the _Chopped_ kitchen is where they will be filming before dropping him off at the house. She hands Louis his set of keys and tells him she will be back by in a couple of days for his fitting and introduction interview. Louis cannot believe he's finally here. It feels unreal. 

Louis steps inside the house and is greeted by a long hallway with several framed photos of contestants on past seasons of _Chopped_. He wanders down the hallway until he makes it to to the living room. Several couches and armchairs sit in the room facing quite a large screen television mounted on the wall. Soft, neutral colours make the room seem more open and inviting. 

There is a doorway across from him which leads into what looks like a smaller sitting room. He turns to head back down the hallway passing the four kitchens. Instead of having one kitchen, like a normal house would, this one has four. 

Each one is setup exactly like the _Chopped_ kitchen, except scaled down to accommodate only one person instead of four. And each contestant gets one to practice their cooking before each round. Louis is antsy to get in there already.

Continuing down the hallway, he comes to the end which splits off two separate ways with two bedrooms on either side. Since he appears to be the first one to arrive, he gets his pick of the bedrooms. Not that it matters, they're all exactly the same. So he just takes the second one down on the right. 

He drops his bags on the floor and plops down on the bed face first. And this has to be the most comfortable bed in the world. Louis thought his bed at home was pretty amazing, but this one. This was is like laying on a cloud. He briefly wonders if he can sneak this mattress back home afterwards without anyone noticing him. 

There's some shuffling in the hallway that wakes Louis out of his light dozing. He opens his door and in the hall is a guy with dark brown hair and blonde tips, like he’s trying to let his natural hair grow out, struggling with what Louis thinks is far too many bags, and are those golf clubs? There isn't even a golf course anywhere near here. 

“Need a hand?” Louis asks

The other guys jumps a little at Louis’ voice, but quickly straightens up and smiles brightly.

“Sorry mate, I didn't realize anyone else was here,” he says in a thick Irish lilt. “I'm Niall.”

Louis takes Niall’s outstretched hand for a quick shake. “Louis, nice to meet you. And it's alright, just got here meself.”

“Can you believe we're here?” Niall asks when Louis is helping him settle into one of the other rooms. “I never thought the day would come. It's wicked.”

“Yeah, it's a little unbelievable,” Louis replies as he's trying to shove the golf clubs into the closet. Why the hell did he bring these? “I've tried out for every season since the first and I was starting to think it was never going to happen.”

After they're both unpacked they settle down in front of the telly in the living room watching the first footie match they can find. Turns out that Niall is just as big of a fan of football as Louis is. Even after spending a short amount of time with him, Louis already loves him and just wants to be his best mate. He's already hoping they stay in touch after all this is over. Niall is literally the sun personified. He's always smiling and cracking jokes. He's just a fun lad to be around. 

The front door slams shut and a few seconds later a buff looking guy with a buzzcut appears in the doorway to the living room. He looks vaguely familiar, Louis must know him from somewhere. 

“Hey mate,” Niall greets with a wave. “I'm Niall and this here is Louis.”

The new guy’s gaze flickers between the two of them for a moment. “I'm Liam, from Manchester.” That's it. Louis’ pretty sure he's been to his restaurant the last time he visited his sister, who lives in Manchester for uni. “Why are you two watching football instead of practicing for the show?”

Niall scrunches up his face in confusion. “Bro, it's only intro week, we don't start filming for like another seven days.”

“Yeah but,” Liam shrugs. “There's no time like the present. So if you don't mind, I'm going to start practicing.” He disappears down the hallway towards the kitchens before popping his head back around the doorway. “By the way, it was lovely meeting the both of you.”

Well, he seems nice enough. A little too uptight, too serious. Louis’ going to make it his mission to loosen him up before the end of this. 

The sun has set, Louis and Niall are still sprawled out in front of the TV now watching some late night talk show, Liam probably still in the practice kitchen, and the fourth contestant has yet to arrive. Louis yawns and is just about to call it a night when he walks in. The second Louis lays eyes on him three things immediately pop into his head. 

One: that is one ridiculous floral shirt. Two: he's the most gorgeous man Louis has ever seen. And three: this is just the opposite of what Louis needs. A tall, pretty boy to distract him. With curls that brush his shoulders and piercing green eyes. 

“Hi. ‘m Harry.” And damn that voice. Deep and rich like fucking velvet that sends a chill down Louis’ spine. Yeah, exactly what he needs. “I'm so excited to be here. I'm only twenty-one so this was the first time I applied for the show and I can't believe I got in!” He comes and sits down on the opposite end of the sofa from Louis. “I've been cooking practically since I could walk. Always in the kitchen with my gran, she taught me everything I know. Unfortunately she passed away last year and that was kind of the motivation I needed to try out for the show. She always said I was the best chef she ever met.”

Wow, cocky much. Right in the fucking door and he's already bragging. Louis’ eyes feel like they're going to pop out of his head from how hard he's trying not to roll them. His arrogance is such a turn off. At least that'll help Louis distance himself from him. Louis immediately comes to the decision that he must start disliking him.

He shuffles out of the room while Harry and Niall are discussing something that Louis doesn't practically care about and heads for his bedroom. This is going to be a long month.

\--

Now Louis is sitting in the interview in his brand new _Chopped_ embroidered chef jacket. Which is one of the itchiest items of clothing he has ever worn. He wishes he could have brought his own jacket from home, but then again, it's nice to have one with the _Chopped_ logo that he'll be able to keep even if he doesn't win.

So Louis is sitting here, lights blaring in his face, and four different cameras pointed directly at him. What is the need for so many cameras? Surely they don't need all those different angle. Like Louis knows he looks good from every angle, but is this honestly really necessary. 

The contestants were given a tour of the kitchen before they went into separate rooms for their individual interviews. Louis felt like he'd already been there due to how much he's watched the show. All the shiny stainless steel, the fully stocked pantry. Finally being here sets off a flutter of excitement in Louis’ gut. 

A makeup lady is dusting his face with some sort of powder because he was looking a little too shiny. That's probably because it's a million degrees under these damn lights. Even though he's sweltering and a teensy bit nervous, even though he will never admit it, Louis can't help but to think of his family. They are the reason he's sitting here, the reason he made it on this show. If they weren't always there for him, constantly supporting him, he would definitely caved under the pressure of everything. 

Opening his own restaurant was the hardest and most stressful thing he's ever been through. Ever since he was a child he loved to cook and he knew he wanted his own restaurant. But actually starting it up was almost too stressful he couldn't take it. He owes his family so much. He’s excited for their reactions when they see the show, which will be a few months until it airs.

He's also thinking about Winston, just because he misses him so fucking much. He hopes his neighbor is being kind to him because he knows Winston isn't very fond of her. 

“Alright Louis,” the woman behind the camera says, grabbing his attention. “Make sure to sit up straight and keep your shoulders back. Just tell us a little bit about yourself, your restaurant, and why you’re here on _Chopped_.”

Louis straightens up and squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath and begins. "I'm Louis Tomlinson, I'm twenty-six, and I'm the executive chef and owner of the restaurant 28 in London." He knows they will now edit in the clips they took of him yesterday at his restaurant. It was the only time during the month he was able to go back. He's only been away for three days, but he missed it terribly. 

"My days tend to be really long and I just throw myself into my work. I've always been that way throughout my career. I'm tenacious and flamboyant and I'm always able to get the job done.” And now on to the more mushy stuff. “My life literally revolves around cooking. I've been cooking with my mum for my younger siblings since I was about ten, it's in my blood. Bedside food, my family is the most important thing in my life. They are the reason I'm here today. So by winning _Chopped_ , I'll be able to give back to them like they've given to me.”

“Okay that was perfect,” the same woman from before says. “We want to do another take of the same thing. So just say all that one more time for me.”

So he does. He goes through the motions again and hopefully says pretty much the same thing as he did the first time around. Even though she said they’d only do one more take, he ends up saying those words five more times. 

He’s slightly irritated, hot, and _itching_ to get out of this jacket by the time he’s allowed to leave. He shoves through the door and is immediately met with an overly tall and overly excited human.

“Hi,” Harry greets in that stupid fucking voice of his. With his hands clasped behind his back and bouncing on the balls of his feet, which are endearingly pigeon-toed, but Louis chooses to ignore that. “How did it go in there?”

Louis has been trying his best to ignore Harry this week, but the major problem with that is they live together. _Forced_ to live together. Louis would never personally make that decision. And what is even better is that the only room that was left by the time Harry arrived was the one right next to Louis’. 

So he’s stuck. Constantly seeing him and running into him in the house. Louis had hoped that once he made it out of the house he’d have a little bit of freedom, but obviously the universe is against him.

It also doesn't help that Harry is always trying to strike up a conversation with him, doesn’t understand that is the literal last thing Louis wants, _needs_ , right now. So Louis is left with just giving him short answers then running off before they can dive further into an actual conversation, before Louis is lured in by those deep mossy green eyes.

And Harry is so _nice_. Like overly nice, probably the nicest person Louis has ever met. No one is that nice unless they’re hiding something. It’s a little fishy. 

As hard as it is to tear his eyes away from the deep, deep dimple carved into Harry’s left cheek, he does and looks at the wall behind him just over Harry’s shoulder. “Fine,” he answers curtly and turns on his heel to walk out of the studio.

Outside, Leona is sat in the golf cart with her feet propped up next to the steering wheel, head tilted back and eyes shut. The wind feels pleasant against Louis’ feverish skin and he’s already unbuttoning his jacket when he slides in next to Leona. “Take me home, driver.”

Leona scoffs as she slides her glasses off the top of her head to cover her eyes. “Don’t start that shit already, or you will be walking for the rest of the month.”

Louis’ glad that he and Leona get along so well already. They banter like siblings and he always feels much more like himself when he’s around her. It’s refreshing to have someone he can talk to about this whole thing that he doesn’t have to compete against.

\--

The first week is almost over. After the rest of today and tomorrow, it’ll be appetizer week. Out of the three of them, Liam is the only one who has been practicing. They barely seem him because he spends so much time in his kitchen. Louis hasn’t even been in his yet. As excited as he was to get in there when he first arrived, he’s dreading it now and has been actively avoiding the kitchens. He knows he needs to practice, _has_ to if he wants to win, but he’s not ready yet. Things will start feeling a little too real once he does.

How it took Louis almost six whole days to find out that the house had a pool, he doesn’t know, but that’s where he is now. He was in his bedroom trying to nap, when he heard a loud splash. He sits up in bed, confused, thinking that maybe he was just dreaming, when he hears another. 

It sounds like it came from outside, so Louis walks out of his bedroom and heads for the door that leads to the back garden. Which is a small square patch of grass framed by a low brick wall with a table and few chairs on the tiny concrete patio in the corner. But then Louis notices a small gate in the brick wall that’s almost hidden by the bushes. He pushes it open and walks down the short walkway and he comes to a pool. A huge pool, with a waterfall and a slide, which Harry and Niall are both swimming around in.

“Lou,” Niall calls from the water. “Come join us!”

Louis turns around to walk back into the house to change. He didn’t bring any swim trunks because no one bothered to inform him that there was a fucking pool, so he just pulls on an old pair of basketball shorts he’s had for years. He stops to grab a towel from the cabinet above the toilet in the bathroom before heading back out.

When he makes it back out to the pool, Harry is lifting himself out of the water and Louis’ stops dead in his tracks, mouth dropping open, which he quickly snaps shut before anyone notices. 

The muscles in Harry’s biceps are bulging obscenely as he lifts himself out of the pool. He’s wearing these tiny little white swim trunks that are clinging to him leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. They’re riding high on his thighs—which are thick and supple—showing off a bloody thigh tattoo that Louis really wish he didn't know was there. The ends of his hair sending droplets of water running down his smooth tanned skin. He’s so fucking broad, you could probably land a damn plane of his back.

Harry, being totally oblivious to Louis trying to figure out just how to ignore _that_ for the next month, turns to him. 

“Hey,” he beams. And wow, that smile too. Why did the universe think it was a good idea to dangle Harry right in front of Louis at the only opportunity in his life in which he won’t be able to act on it. It has a pretty sick sense of humor. “You coming in for a swim?”

“I suppose I am.” He drops his towel onto one of the lounge chairs and takes a running jump into the pool. When his head breaks back through the surface, he opens his eyes to see Harry pouting and even more wet than he was just a moment ago. Louis laughs to himself as he swims over to the shallow end to join Niall.

It’s the first nice day they’ve had in awhile. The sun actually decided to make an appearance today instead hiding out behind the clouds like it has been for the last few days. The perfect day for swimming. Louis stays in the pool until his skin is all pruney and he reeks of chlorine, the sun starting to sink below the horizon. 

Harry has made some sort of pizza on the grill, which smells heavenly, but Louis absolutely refuses to eat anything Harry has made. He towels off and wanders back into the house. Liam is just stepping out of his practice kitchen and Louis takes one of the chicken wraps he offers him.

“How’d you do today?” Louis asks around his mouthful. Fuck, this is delicious.

“Did pretty well I guess,” Liam shrugs. “I’m starting to feel better about it and getting more confident.”

Louis holds up the chicken wrap. “Well this is top notch, mate. You're going to be the one to beat, I reckon.”

Liam smiles as his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “Thank you. I'm going to turn in for the night. I'm knackered.” 

After saying goodnight to Liam, Louis plops down on the sofa in front of the television. It's only about ten minutes later when Harry comes strolling in, still wet from the pool with a towel wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Hi. Mind if I join you?” Harry asks timidly. 

Louis gestures towards the other sofa and Harry smiles softly and perches on the edge of it. “What are you watching?”

“I’m not sure to be honest,” Louis answers, not bothering to look up from his phone. He hasn't been paying any attention to it since he's been sitting here. “Some film I think. This was just the channel that the telly was already on.”

Harry hums and settles back against the cushions. Louis can't help glancing up at him every so often. The ends of his hair or drying curlier than normal, his eyes wide and intently focused on the movie. 

Harry is gorgeous. Incredibly so. Anybody with eyes can see that. Louis can _definitely_ see that, but he doesn't care. Not even a little bit. 

During a particularly slow part in the movie, Louis can see Harry turning towards him out of the corner of his eye. “So are you ner—”

“Now isn't the best time for a chat, Harold,” Louis cuts in. “I'm trying to watch this film.”

It's a lie. The only time he's looked up from his phone is to look at Harry, not the TV screen. He honestly couldn't even tell you what the movie is about. 

He's being an arsehole. He knows he is. But it's just him and Harry in the room by themselves and it's incredibly tempting. Especially since they're both still wearing what they went swimming in. He has to deny the warmth starting to swirl in his gut. Louis just. He _can't_.

And the thing is that Harry always tries to talk to him, to get to know him, and it makes everything ten times worse. Because there's just something about Harry, something _magnetic_ , that keeps trying to pull Louis in. It gets harder and harder to fight it with each passing day. 

Harry sighs and gets up from the couch, heading back towards the bedrooms without another word. Louis ignores the way that he now feels like complete and utter shit.

\--

A nightclub. Out of everywhere they could choose to go to help them get to know each other better, they pick a fucking nightclub. Which was an absolutely brilliant idea because Liam fucked off to who knows where as soon as they walked in and Harry’s been on the dance floor the whole time, dancing with anyone who shows him any little bit of attention.

It’s intoxicating to watch him. They way his body moves, they way he just lets the music take control of him. But of course Louis wouldn’t know that because he isn't watching. That is exactly the type of distraction Louis can’t afford right now, the night before appetizer week, but god it’s hard to look away.

He’s sitting at the bar with Niall sipping on a poorly made whiskey sour. They’ve been chatting back and forth for awhile now and it’s nice. Niall is like his own personal anxiety medication, instantly feeling relaxed in his presence. 

“You two are going to hook up by the end of this aren't you?” Niall asks out of nowhere.

“Excuse me?”

“You and Harry,” Niall nods his head towards the dance floor. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.” That’s ridiculous. Louis doesn't look at Harry any type of way. Does he? “Besides, he already told me he thinks you’re well fit.”

Louis ignores the swirl of heat that ignites in his gut. “Well good for him. I happen to find him incredibly annoying.”

“Annoying?” Niall questions, his eyes widening. “We are talking about the same Harry, right? He’s like the nicest bloke in the world.”

“Exactly. He’s too fucking nice,” Louis points out.

“You don’t like him because he’s nice? You into arseholes or something?”

Before Louis has time to reply to that, he feels the warmth of another body sliding into the stool on his other side, sitting a little too close for his liking. He doesn't even have to turn around to know who it is, but he does so anyway. 

Harry has literally _draped_ himself across the bar. His chin resting in the palm of his right hand, a sly grin on his lips. “Can I get a strawberry margarita please? Frozen.” The bartender positively melts at that, turning to putty in Harry’s hands. What the fuck?

He turns to Louis once the bartender gets his wits about him and goes to make the drink. There's a bright smile on his face and Louis can see the sweat glistening in between his pecs because apparently he doesn't know that his shirt has more than the three bottom buttons. Louis gets it okay, Harry has a nice chest, but he doesn't have to flaunt it. Louis _wishes_ he wouldn't flaunt it. 

It doesn't even matter if his shirt was buttoned up anyway because it's completely sheer, a red floral pattern embroidered on the bottom half of it. Louis can clearly see the dark outline of his nipples, even in the dim lighting of the club. Who even owns a shirt like that? Harry fucking Styles, that's who. 

He's also in a pair of unjustifiably tight jeans. No way those are real. He must have paid one of those body painters to airbrush them onto him. It would be impossible for anyone to squeeze themselves into jeans that tight. Especially Harry, who has thighs and legs for days. 

Niall takes his drink and leaves the bar, cackling loudly. Louis takes back every nice thing he's ever thought about him. He hates Niall. 

“Wanna dance, Lou?” Harry asks while his pink, pink lips are wrapped around the straw of his margarita, sucking obscenely. Louis knows what he's doing and he's not going to fall for it.

“Nah,” Louis shakes his head. “I'm not much of a dancer.” That's a lie. Get a few drinks in him and he'd be all over that dancefloor. But there's no way in hell he is dancing with Harry. 

“Aw, come on. Just one dance.” Harry's pouting. His plump bottom lip is jutting out underneath his top one, his eyes are big and round, eyelashes blinking innocently. 

And no. Those pouty puppy dog looks do not work on Louis. Not even a little bit. Except, evidently they do, because he's allowing Harry to wrap his hand around his wrist and drag him through the throng of people onto the dancefloor. 

It starts out innocently enough. There's a decent amount of space in between their bodies and Louis is bopping along to the music like he would on a night out with his mates. Both he and Harry still have their drinks in hand and Louis plans to keep a death grip on his, use it as an excuse not to get any closer to Harry. 

As a waitress carrying a tray full of drinks passes by them, Harry plucks Louis’ glass out of his hand and places it along with his own onto the waitress’ tray before she disappears into the crowd of people. So much for his death grip. 

Harry reaches out to grab Louis’ hips and pull him flush against his body, shoving a thigh in between Louis’ legs. Louis gasps and tosses his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry’s hands fit perfectly in the dip of Louis’ back, his pinkies dipping dangerously close to Louis’ arse. 

There's just enough alcohol flowing through Louis’ bloodstream that makes him really into this. He's _revels_ in the way Harry’s hot, firm body feels pressed up against his. He's grinding against Harry’s thigh a little too filthily for a public place, but it's causing Harry to release these deep, throaty moans that make Louis’ head spin more than the alcohol. 

Harry's head in buried in Louis’ neck and his hot breaths against Louis’ skin make him shiver. Harry leans back just far enough to pull on Louis’ earlobe with his _teeth_. And that snaps Louis out of it. The alcohol sizzles out of his body and he's instantly sober. He shoves Harry off of him and steps back. 

“I'm sorry—I shouldn't,” he stammers. And then he's moving. Pushing his way through the mass of people on the dance floor not bothering to look back. 

He meant to head for the toilets, but he thinks he went in the wrong direction when he comes to a staircase. One that has lights underneath each step that fade from green to blue to purple and then back again. He climbs the steps not thinking or caring about where they might lead. Turns out it's just a balcony that overlooks the rest of the club with extra tables. 

Louis wanders through the tables hoping to find one empty, but stumbles upon a booth with none other than Liam and Niall. 

“Mate, that was fucking hot,” Niall says, his head nodding towards the dance floor. 

“Piss off,” Louis replies as he slides into the booth next to Liam. He cuddles up against Liam’s side and Liam, being the wonderful teddy bear that he is, just pulls Louis closer, runs a soothing hand through his hair, and gives him one of the many bottles of beer that are scattered across the tabletop. 

With his head bent down Louis has a clear view of the dance floor below where Harry has now moved on to dance with some other guy. Clearly he's only doing it to make Louis jealous with the way he keeps glancing up at their table every few seconds. Louis isn't jealous though because he's not interested in Harry. At all. Harry can go fuck himself. Preferably while Louis watches. But that doesn't mean Louis is interested because he's _not_. Not even a little bit. 

The three of them stay at the booth for the next few hours and it's nice. Nice how well they get along, _have_ gotten along since the very first day. When they're spending time together like this it feels as if they've known each other for years instead of only a week. As if they're all best mates instead of people competing against each other. Unfortunately one of them is going to be leaving after each week. Louis doesn't want to see either of them go but he also doesn't want to be the one that has to leave. 

Niall hits on literally every girl that walks by. Most of them roll their eyes or just ignore him completely until one actually stops. She cracks up laughing, says that's the worst pick up line she has ever heard, tells her friends to go on without her, and slides into the booth next to Niall. 

She's actually quite striking. Long brown hair and bright blue eyes with a cute button nose, tall but petite all at once. With the way she's been tossing back beers ever since she sat down, she'd be able to drink Niall under the table, which is saying a lot. And Niall is totally smitten. 

It's just past three in the morning, the girl (Louis can't remember her name for the life of him) has just left to return to her friends, but not without putting her number into Niall's phone, and the club is going to close in about an hour. They decide to call it a night. 

Liam drags Harry off the dance floor and out of the club where their Uber is idling at the kerb. Louis isn't drunk but he's just tipsy enough to know that being in a small confined space (like a car with no easy escape route) with Harry right now is not a good idea, hopefully he can grab the front seat before anybody else. The alcohol makes him a tad bit sluggish and Liam hops into the front before the thought has even finished crossing Louis’ mind. 

Harry slides into the back first and Niall says he can't sit in the middle because he gets claustrophobic, so Louis’ lucky enough to sit next to the one person he's trying to avoid. He gets into the back and buckles up and it's fine. There's space in between him and Harry, their bodies not even touching. 

When the driver pulls away from the curb and into the street, Harry leans with the movement of the car, pressing his entire left side into Louis’ right. And he doesn't move away. Every point of Louis’ body that is in contact with Harry feels like it's on fire, like Harry just took a match and used Louis to ignite it. 

Harry's apple and mahogany scent is even stronger now that it's not clouded with the smell of stale alcohol and sweat from the club. It's clogging Louis’ nostrils and consuming all of his senses, literally becoming the only thing he can focus on. He needs to get out of this car before the situation in between his legs gets anymore obvious. 

As soon as the car stops outside the house, Louis is practically climbing over Niall to get out. He races inside and locks himself in his room, taking a deep breath to clear his mind.

\--

The house is eerily silent when Louis wakes up the following morning. He assumes everyone is still sleeping off their hangovers, which Louis can feel the dull throbbing of his forming behind his eyes. He groans; he didn’t even drink all that much.

It’s only ten past nine in the morning and he really doesn’t want to be awake right now, would give anything to not be awake right now, but he has been tossing and turning for the last hour or so and he thinks sleep is lost cause.

Eventually, Louis is able to drag his arse of out of bed and into the shower. When he’s finished scrubbing off the stench of the club from his skin and fully dressed, he steps out into the hallway. It’s still quiet, unsettlingly so, and all the other bedroom doors are closed. He can’t believe he’s the first one awake. 

He continues down the hallway and towards his practice kitchen. He hasn’t been inside it yet, hasn’t even been in this part of the house since he moved in a week ago. He isn’t avoiding it per se, he just hasn’t been ready yet. Or at least that’s what he's been telling himself.

Sighing, he pushes the door open and lets it fall shut behind him once he’s inside. It’s almost a exact replica of the _Chopped_ kitchen, except it’s about a fourth of the size. Sitting on one of the shelving units in the pantry are eighteen ingredient baskets. Louis picks one that is labeled as appetizer and carries it over to his work station.

He runs his hands over the smooth wooden edges and across the handles. He’s stalling, he knows he is, but he’s nervous. Before this he was just excited to finally be apart of the show he’s been dreaming of being on for ages, always wondered what it would be like. Now he knows what it’s like. Nerve wracking as hell. He can’t even begin to imagine what it’s going to feel like being in the real kitchen in front of all the cameras. 

He takes a deep breath and opens the basket and he is hit with a wave of relief because he’s familiar with each one of these ingredients. He takes each one out and begins, feeling much more at ease than he was a few moments ago. 

Louis is plating his dish and the timer hasn’t gone off yet, he can’t believe he finished with time remaining. That was surprisingly easy and he didn’t feel rushed in the slightest. He was nervous for no reason at all. He makes meals in a rush almost everyday at work.

As soon as he’s gotten everything on the plate, he glances up at the timer to see how much time is left, and that’s when he notices that he never set the timer to begin with. Four blue zeros are staring at him, mocking him. He groans and slams his forehead against the table. No wonder he felt so relaxed during that.

After double and triple checking that he set the timer, he starts on another basket. This one doesn’t go as well as the first, he isn’t able to get everything on the plate before the buzzer goes off, but at least he’s got somewhat of a feel of how long twenty minutes is. 

Two more tries later, Louis is calling it quits for the day. That’s enough practicing for now and he realizes this is going to be a lot harder than he realized. He can hear some movement in another room and he knows someone else is finally awake. He cleans up his area and turns off the light before leaving the room and joining Niall in front of the television.

\--

Halfway through the first week—technically second week, but it feels like only the first week because now they’re actually working and getting ready for filming—and Louis feels like he’s practiced enough for a lifetime. After he learned to make sure the timer was set each time, he thinks he’s finally got the hang of things. He’s able to finish his dishes within the time allotted, the only problem he tends to have is struggling with what to do with some of the ingredients he isn’t very familiar with. He’s comfortable and he’s ready to finally be in the real kitchen and getting it over with.

It’s midday, the first day of the week that hasn’t been grey and cloudy, and they’re all out by the pool. Even Liam. The other three were surprised when he strolled out in his baby blue swim shorts and dived right into the pool. They all did the classic stop-and-stare, where all three of them literally stopped in the middle of what they were doing, mouths hanging open, and eyes following Liam’s every move. Liam acting as if nothing is out of the ordinary, as if he hasn’t been holed up in his practice kitchen since the moment he arrived at the house. 

Louis is sprawled out on one of the lounge chairs as he chats with Niall. He’s trying to work on his tan, which admittedly, is a little hard to do in London, but he wants his golden skin back. He lost some of his glow during the winter. He hasn’t been in the water yet, just enjoying the feel of the sun against his skin. Liam’s been doing laps since he jumped in like some goddamn Olympian, Harry’s sitting on the edge, legs swaying back and forth through the water, and Niall’s been in and out of the pool the whole time, like he can’t decide on which one he prefers. 

“How’s the practicing been going?” Niall asks as he climbs out of the pool. 

“Quite good actually,” Louis responds, eyes still shut behind the sunglasses perched on his nose. “I think I’m finally getting the hang of it.”

He hears the very beginning of what Niall is about to say in reply, but he never gets to hear the end of it because Harry is butting in. Which, rude. He wasn’t even a part of this conversation. Didn’t his mum ever teach him that you shouldn’t eavesdrop? “I haven’t practiced. Don’t think I will at all, actually. I’m confident enough.” Louis doesn’t even try to hide his scoff at that. Can Harry get anymore conceited? “Do you have a problem?” He hears Harry ask.

He sits up then and pushes his sunglasses onto the top of his head. Harry’s still sitting on the edge of the pool, but he’s looking at Louis with _distaste_ , like he’s disgusted to be having this conversation. Which, Louis couldn’t agree with more. “You say that like it’s going to make us all jealous.” He gestures towards the other two. Liam is still doing laps and probably hasn’t even heard any of their conversation. Niall has his back turned to them while he dries off with his towel, pretending to not be listening, but Louis knows he is.

“Like we’re slaving away and wasting our time,” Louis continues. “While you, Mr. High and Mighty, don’t need to bother with it because it’s beneath you.” He can hear the venom creeping into his voice, but he’s so _tired_ of Harry acting like he’s better than everyone. He needs a reality check. “We aren’t practicing because we don’t know how to cook. Harry, I own my own fucking restaurant. I spend twenty-four hours a day in a kitchen cooking my arse off. I think I know how to do it. We practice to get ourselves used to cooking under the time restraint. So the fact that you haven’t practiced, isn’t a good thing. Stop bragging.”

He slides his shades back over his eyes, never looking away from Harry. It happens so quickly that Louis isn’t sure if he imagined it or not, something flashes across Harry’s face and he almost looks _hurt_. For a second, Louis feels bad. He knows he was being a bit of a dick, but he didn’t want to actually hurt Harry’s feelings, that wasn’t his intention at all. He just wants Harry to stop acting like an arrogant arsehole all the time. But those feelings swiftly pass when Harry doesn’t say anything more, just gets up and walks back into the house, flipping Louis off as he passes him. Harry is so fucking juvenile.

\--

It's early evening, Louis has spent the entire day since he woke up this morning in the practice kitchen and frankly he's exhausted. He's relaxing with a beer in the sitting room when Harry joins him.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Harry asks as he sits in the chair to Louis’ left. 

“Hate is a very strong word, Harold.”

Harry sighs and leans back in his chair. He takes the tie from around his wrist and pulls his hair up into a bun. And where the hell did that jawline come from? His face looks sharper yet softer at the same time when it’s not being framed by his curly hair. Fuck, he’s really pretty. “Okay. Then why do you _dislike_ me so much?”

“You're cocky,” Louis answers, not even taking the time to think about it. 

“There's a difference between being cocky and being confident,” Harry says. 

“There is, but you don't understand that difference.”

“Is it so wrong that I'm confident in my abilities? That I know I'm a good chef. I wouldn't have made it on _Chopped_ if I wasn't.” Harry states it like it’s fact, and his confidence is incredibly arousing.

And, well, he does have a point there. But he doesn't have to constantly brag about it. 

“You see,” Harry says, leaning towards Louis. His lips stretching into a sly smile. And Louis can't help it, he has to lean forward as well. “I think you do like me. You just aren't allowing yourself to give in. By the end of this, after I beat your arse in the kitchen, I'm going to have you eating out of the palm of my hand.”

Louis didn't think it was physically possible, but Harry’s voice somehow got even deeper than normal and it's left Louis speechless. “Fuck off,” he replies after he's somewhat composed himself, but Harry has already left the room. He’s definitely fucked.

\--

The air is buzzing with nervous energy, cameras and blinding lights aimed right at him. Louis exhales and looks up. This is it. This is really happening. None of it felt real before; moving into the house, cooking in the practice kitchen, filming his introductory interview, getting a tour of this kitchen he's standing in right now. It all kind of just felt like a dream, but now, it's finally starting to sink in. He's on fucking _Chopped_.

The three chefs sitting at the judges table are people he's looked up to practically his whole life and he knows he needs to impress them, set himself up to win. Ted Allen is standing a few measly feet from him. Harry is to his left, Liam to his right, and Niall on Liam’s other side. Each one of them is crazy talented in the kitchen. The panic is finally rising up in him. And he's nervous. He's so fucking bloody nervous. 

Honestly what the fuck was he thinking? Sure, he loves watching the show, but he was an idiot for thinking he's a good enough chef to actually be _on_ it. There's no way he can do this. He's going to fail miserably. 

Ted's voice jolts him out of the labyrinth of his thoughts. “Welcome chefs. Here are the rules. There are three rounds. Appetizer, entree, dessert. Each course comes with it's own basket of mystery ingredients. You must use every ingredient in the basket in some way. Also available to you is our pantry and fridge. Each round is timed and when the clock runs out our judges will critique your dishes based on presentation, taste, and creativity. If your dish doesn't cut it. You will be chopped.”

Louis barely pays attention. Due to the amount of times he's watched the show, this feels like it has to be the millionth time he's heard the rules. He could recite them by heart.

“Let's get the ball rolling by getting these baskets open,” Ted continues. “And your appetizer ingredients are; asparagus, wonton wrappers, shrimp, and goat cheese.”

Louis opens the basket and sets each ingredient on the table as Ted says them aloud. He makes sure to place them with the label facing the camera so the people watching at home can see it, just like they were told to do. With each ingredient he lays out, he feels the tension in his shoulders slowly ebb away. He recognizes all of these ingredients, he works with each one of them almost daily. He currently has a very popular item on his menu that includes shrimp and goat cheese. No problem. He was worrying for no reason. He's got this round in the bag. 

As soon as they're told their time has begun, Louis races towards the pantry. “Behind you,” he calls out to Harry as he shuffles behind him. 

He grabs bread crumbs and shredded coconut and fresh parsley as an afterthought. Once he makes it back to his station he throws the shrimp into a pan with a little bit of butter and a little bit of garlic to get them sautéing.

Thankfully the shrimp was already peeled for them. Louis is awful at peeling shrimp and it would probably take him the whole twenty minute round just to peel them. 

His shrimp is cooking away nicely so he begins mincing up the parsley. He tosses that into the pan with the shrimp along with the breadcrumbs and coconut. 

Louis can hear Ted and the judges talking over at the judges table, most likely about the basket ingredients, but he doesn't pay attention to them. He doesn't even look over to see what the other three boys are making. He's in his own little world. He doesn't want to look up for even a second, too afraid it will throw him off.

He places the asparagus in a baking pan, adds a dash of salt and pepper, drizzles it with olive oil and a cheeky little bit of coconut oil just to tie it in with the shrimp. Usually he'd sprinkle parmesan cheese over the top, but since one of the mystery ingredients was goat cheese he uses that instead and slides the pan into the oven. 

He takes a muffin tin and lines it with the wonton wrappers, forming little cups. He spritzes each one with a bit of coconut oil just to ensure they get crispy while in the oven. The shrimp is done cooking in the stove and he places two of them into each wonton cup and then tops them with the breadcrumb and coconut mixture and a tiny bit of the goat cheese.

“Chefs, you have ten minutes remaining.”

How is it possible that half their time has gone by already? It goes by about twice as fast as it did in the practice kitchen. It should take ten minutes just for the wontons to cook in the oven, he’s going to have to pull them out at the last possible second. 

While everything is in the oven, Louis decides to get all his plates ready. He runs over the shelf and takes down the plates he needs. He’s sweating profusely and his hands won't stop shaking. This is so much different from watching at home. 

Ted calls out that there is only five minutes left and Louis is starting to get anxious. His plates are ready and he has nothing left to do but pace back in forth in front of his oven while everything cooks. 

He can hear Niall shouting about something, the judges chatting amongst themselves, and Harry cursing under his breath to his left. There’s so much going on at once in this one room. The chaos towards the end of each round always felt so fake while Louis watched on telly, but this shit is real and he’s living it.

With literally one minute left, Louis is taking his wontons and asparagus out of the oven and plating them. He finishes with about ten seconds remaining on the clock and he steps back from his station when Ted calls time. No way that was twenty minutes. It felt more like five. 

Louis glances across the board and everyone’s plate is visually appealing. He looks down at his own and it looks like someone just slopped some food onto a plate. He’s definitely going home. 

They are all told to wait off to the side while a crew comes in and cleans their work stations. Louis feels a little awkward watching someone else clean the mess he made. The makeup team comes in and makes them all look a little less sweaty and a little more presentable. And then it’s time.

Standing in front of the judges makes Louis’ nerves bubble up again. They’re in the same order as they were at their stations, so Louis is next to Harry again. He’s still so cocky now, a small smile playing on his lips like he knows he’s just going to breeze right through this. Louis doesn’t understand how he’s not shitting himself with nerves like the rest of them are.

“Chefs, you have made it to the chopping block,” Ted announces. “You had to prepare a appetizer using wonton wrappers, asparagus, goat cheese, and shrimp. Chef Liam, you are up first.”

After Liam is Niall and honestly Louis doesn’t pay much attention to either of them. He zones out for a bit, too caught up in how he’s going to speak to the judges, people he _idolizes_ , without sounding like a blubbering idiot. Ted saying his name, pulling him back, and he sees his plate sitting in front of the judges. “Chef Louis, tell us about your appetizer.”

He swallows. He can do this, even though it feels like he’s a boy standing in the headmaster’s office at school being reprimanded for causing trouble in class. He can totally do this. “I’ve prepared for you a crunchy coconut shrimp wonton with baked asparagus.” His voice came out steadier than he thought it would. He’s off to a good start.

Watching the judges eat his food is excruciating. They are literally eating something he’s made and they aren’t even looking at him, not paying him an ounce of attention. As if he isn’t even there at all. 

Finally, after what feels like light years, one of the judges speaks up. “Your shrimp is cooked to perfection, nice and tender. And it isn't too overpowering with the coconut, you used just the right amount.”

“Although your asparagus is delicious, cooked exactly the way I like it,” another judge says. “It seems like you just tossed it on the side as an afterthought. You should have incorporated it in with the wontons somehow. But overall everything tastes great. Well done.” 

“Very creative idea using the wonton wrappers as a bowl for your shrimp instead of a tradition wonton,” the last judge supplies. “You’re the only chef who thought outside of the box on that one. But the bottoms are a little bit soggy. Otherwise, your dish is great and you can really taste each individual mystery ingredient.”

Well, that went surprisingly okay. There were some good things and some bad things said, as to be expected, and Louis is feeling pretty good about it. He feels like he can finally breathe again since the start of this.

Harry is the last to go and of course the judges rave about him. Not a single bad thing is said about his dish. He really doesn’t need his ego getting any bigger than it already is.

Afterwards, they are sent off to the holding room to wait while the judges make their decision. It’s up in the air now, Louis feels like any one of them could be going home and he’s desperate to know what the judges are saying right now. 

“It’s like a one-two punch,” Liam comments. “At first they give you a compliment, but the next second they say this is terrible.”

The each mumble their agreement and discuss how they feel it went before they’re being called out. Walking back out to the judges again is terrifying. Definitely the most nerve wracking thing Louis has ever been through.

Ted is standing at the end of the table, his hand wrapped around the handle of a silver cloche. One of their plates is underneath that and Louis has the awful gut feeling that it’s his. 

“So,” Ted begins. “Whose dish is on the chopping block?” Waiting for Ted to lift the cloche feels more like twenty minutes than that round did. Eventually, he does pull of the lid and it’s not Louis’ dish. It’s Liam’s. “Chef Liam, you have been chopped. Judges?”

Louis can practically hear the shock from the rest of them, but Liam takes it like champ as the judges explain why he was chopped. After the cameras are cut off and they’ve wrapped the filming for this round, Louis immediately pulls Liam into a hug. He just can’t believe it. Can’t believe that the first one to go is the one that practiced the most. The one who was the most serious about it.

Once they make it back to the house, Liam packs up all his things and they each take a moment to say their goodbyes before he leaves for good. And now there were three.


	2. Entrée

Things are weird in the house after Liam’s gone. Well, for the most part everything is exactly the same. There’s just this _feeling_ of something missing. The door of the bedroom Liam was staying in is left open, everything inside neat and tidy, the bed made, there’s no evidence that he was even there at all.

Currently, Louis’ in the living room with Niall, has been since he woke up this morning. Neither one of them bothered to practice today, they deserve to have one day off after going through it for real yesterday. Honestly, Louis’ not even sure if he’s going to practice at all for this week. He kind of agrees with Harry now. Like, what’s the point?

Niall insisted on watching some golf match or tournament or whatever the you call a golf game. Louis hasn’t really been paying attention because it’s been putting him to sleep more than anything. He’s never played golf, it could be a fucking blast for all he knows, but it’s definitely boring as hell to watch.

It’s nearing three in the afternoon and Louis’ stomach is starting to grumble. He hasn’t eaten anything besides a bowl a cereal this morning. He also hasn’t seen Harry once today. “Have you seen Harry at all today?” He asks Niall as casually as possible.

“Nope,” Niall replies, not even bothering to take his eyes off the television screen. “I think he’s still in bed. Maybe you should go check on him.”

“Why do I have to do it?” He’s quite comfortable, doesn’t really fancy moving from his spot on the couch. He wasn’t actually planning on doing that at all today. Well, maybe for a wee and some food, but only if he was desperate.

Niall gives him a look that says _you know why_. Which yeah, Louis guesses he does know. Reluctantly he gets up from the couch, but not without a very over dramatic sigh, and trudges down the hallway towards Harry’s bedroom.

He knocks on the door, waits a few seconds, gets no response, so he knocks again. Nothing. He slowly pushes the door open and it instantly met with darkness. The curtains are pulled tightly shut and there’s only a small line of light trying to trickle out from in between them. It’s just enough for Louis to make out a human shaped lump underneath the duvet. He takes a step into the room. “Harry?” 

Some sort of muffled acknowledgement comes from the lump and he takes a couple steps closer. “Harry love,” Louis’ surprised at how much softer his voice has gotten. And where did that love come from? Okay, he does call everyone love, but definitely not Harry. “It’s three in the afternoon. Are you going to be joining the rest of the world today?”

Another grumbles escapes from under the duvet, this one sounds more like a disagreement. Louis finally makes it to the side of the bed and tries to find Harry in his blanket cave, but it’s too damn dark to see anything. “Okay, Harry. I’m going to turn this lamp on because it’s dark as shit in here, so shield your eyes or whatever.” He clicks on the lamp sitting on the nightstand and the room becomes bathed in a soft glow.

Harry has got the duvet wrapped up over his head, just his face peeking out. “Hey, there he is!” Louis says it in hopes of getting a smile out of Harry, but it fails miserably because all he does is groan again and pull the duvet even tighter around his face. Louis sits on the edge of the bed and puts his hand on what he thinks might be Harry’s shoulder. “Are you ill?”

“No.” Ah, so he does speak.

“What’s wrong then, love?” There he goes with the love again. When did he become so soft?

“Liam got sent home.”

Well, _that_ is literally the last thing he thought Harry was going to say. Louis misses him too. Kind of. He was a great guy and Louis loved to poke fun at him, but they rarely saw each other for the two weeks he was here because he was always holed up in his practice kitchen. He thinks he only saw Harry and Liam talk maybe twice. “Yeah, it sucks. I miss him to but—”

“No,” Harry interjects. “Het got sent home when it should have been me.”

Okay, Harry just keeps saying the most surprising things. Maybe he is a bit ill. “Why should it have been you?”

“Because Liam was the one who practiced the most and I didn’t practice once. It should have been me.”

“Harry, no,” Louis says. “You can’t think like that. The only thing practicing helps you with is getting used to the time limit, because you’re not going to know what’s in the basket. Out of everyone, you were the one who deserved to go on to the next round. The judges raved about what you made, they didn’t have a single negative thing to say about it. Niall and I got dragged through the mud, and in all honesty, I thought _I_ was the one who was going to go home. I was so surprised it was Liam.” He scoots a bit closer to Harry, his hand still resting on his shoulder. “Harry, you are an incredible chef and you wouldn’t have made it here if you weren’t. And you wouldn’t have made it into the next round if you weren’t. And that’s exactly why you’re going to make it all the way to end.”

Harry’s little curly head pokes out of his blankets, eyes blinking up at Louis. “You think so?”

“I do,” Louis nods.

He gets shoved a little when Harry finally sits up in the bed and lets his mound of blankets fall into his lap. “Thanks, Lou. Just sometimes I can take things really hard and I can get, depressed isn’t the right word for it, but it’s the best way I can describe it, and I can end up in bed for days. 

“That’s alright. Everyone handles things differently.” He gives Harry a smile before he stands up from the bed. “Have you showered or eaten yet today?” Harry shakes his head. “I bet a hot shower will help you feel better. So while you do that, I’ll make us something to eat.”

Harry agrees and Louis waits until he can hear the water in the shower running before he leaves the room and heads for the kitchen. He decides on just a simple veggie pasta with a garlic sauce. Harry is out of the shower, hair damp, and looking much more alive than he was earlier, by the time Louis makes it back to his bedroom. 

They eat in relative silence, except for when Harry compliments Louis on how nice the pasta is. And Louis feels something shift inside him. He can't seem to keep his eyes off of Harry for very long, always flicking them back towards him. There’s just something about Harry that has felt so enticing since that first day and Louis’ finally snapped, no longer resisting the pull he’s felt towards him. Finally allowing himself to be drawn into Harry’s orbit, floating aimlessly.

“Thanks again, Louis.” Harry tells him as Louis is leaving with their dirty dishes.

“Anytime, love,” He finds himself replying and he means it.

\--

There’s a difference between him and Harry after that day. Louis is considerably less of a dick to him, he still teases him sometimes just because it’s fun and he actually engages Harry in conversations.

Like now for example. Louis is lounging on his bed, scrolling through his phone when he sees Harry walk by the open doorway. “Hey Haz,” he calls out. That’s a thing now too. Louis’ got nicknames for Harry. “How did it go in there?”

Today was the first day that Harry spent in his practice kitchen. After his little breakdown when Liam left, he’s been determined to practice every day. With encouraging words from Louis of course. 

“It went really well,” Harry says, stepping into the room. He sits on the edge of the bed and Louis can’t help but shuffle forward a bit just to be closer to him. “Thanks for, you know. Everything.”

Louis flicks his eyes up to Harry’s face and he looks so _earnest_ , like he truly means it. The breath gets caught in Louis’ throat when he tries to reply because Harry is just really beautiful. It’s something Louis’ always known, but know he allows himself to really _look_. His eyes are so green and bright, sparkling almost. The curve of his lips and the sharpness of his jawline are obscene. He’s an enigma. Deep voice, great hair, and incredible muscles. Gangly limbs, adorable dimples, and that fucking mouth of his. But he’s also really sweet, and funny, and infuriatingly attractive. Louis is in way over his head.

Harry gives him an odd look before he starts giggling, literally _giggling_ , and that dimple pops into his cheek. Louis realizes he must have been starting for a bit too long, but he can take his eyes off Harry. He’s radiant and Louis gets the strong feeling of butterflies in his stomach, which _oh_. He’s never felt like that around Harry before.

“You’re welcome, you dork.” He lightly pushes on Harry shoulder, who topples off the bed and lands in a heap on the floor. It’s silent for a few beats, Louis has an apology ready on the tip of his tongue, but then Harry dissolves into another fit of giggles. Louis just rolls his eyes and throws his pillow at Harry’s face.

\--

He needs to do laundry. Louis thought he had packed enough to last him a month without having to wash anything, but now as he’s digging through his bags he’s come to realize that’s not true at all. And he’s run out of clean underwear. Which, gross. He bundles everything that needs a wash into a giant ball and carries it to the laundry room. He may have dropped a few things in the process.

The laundry room is right off the dining room, which hasn’t been touched by any of them, and next to the real kitchen. Yeah, there is a real kitchen where they can make meals for themselves when they aren’t practicing and it’s cleaned and stocked by people who work at the studio. It only took Louis two weeks to find out about that. Honestly, he’s the last one to know everything.

The door of the laundry room is open and Harry is inside, wearing a loose pair of grey sweatpants and nothing else. “Hey Lou,” he greets when he notices Louis approaching. “I’m just about to start a load if you want to throw yours in with mine.” 

Thank god, Louis hates doing laundry. He steps into the room and throws his bundle of clothes onto the tiny bit of counter space. The room is small, very narrow and barely enough room for two people. There’s a washer and dryer against one wall with the counter space to the left and a few shelves on the wall above them, an ironing board and a iron hanging on the opposite wall. That’s it. It’s smaller than Louis’ closet at home. 

Harry’s already got the water started in the washing machine with his clothes in the bottom of it. Due to the amount of white shirts in there, Louis guesses he’s just doing lights right now, so Louis adds his own lights to it.

Harry reaches in front of him to take the bottle of detergent off the shelf and Louis’ breath catches in his throat. Their faces are so close that if Harry just turned his a little to left, they would be kissing. Louis _really_ wants to kiss him. Wait, what?

That’s new. He’s never thought that about Harry before, but they’ve been spending a lot of time together recently and Louis’ really got to know him better. He’s fun and really kind, always thinking of others before himself. He has the strangest taste in music and probably holds the world title for slowest talker, but Louis really likes to spend time with him. Really likes him in general. So yeah, Louis wants to kiss him, see if his lips are as deliciously soft as they look.

“If you just want to leave your darks here, I can do them later,” Harry says as he add the detergent to their wash, snapping Louis back to reality. “Unless you have some unmentionables in there that you don’t want me to see.”

“Nah, I don’t care,” Louis shrugs. “As long as you don’t, like, sniff my pants then we’re good.”

“Oh,” Harry’s face deflates. “I was planning on doing that once you left, but if you think it’s weird, then I…” he gives up with a sigh and ducks his head.

“Um—” What does Louis say to that? Harry just admitted that he smells people’s underwear. Like, everyone has their _thing_ , and Louis’ never been one to judge, but he’s never really understood why people do that. He’s trying to think of what to say without seeming like he’s kinkshaming. 

“Oh my god,” Harry says, erupting in laughter. “I’m kidding! You should have seen your face. It looked like you had just seen a ghost.”

“You dick!” Louis exclaims, shoving at Harry’s chest. “I didn’t know what to say without sounding like an arse.”

“I—I’m sorry,” Harry laughs. He doesn’t seem very sorry.

“You’re doing my laundry for the rest of the month because of that.” Louis stomps out of the room, Harry’s loud laughter following him as he goes.

\--

“You like _The Notebook_?”

“I like Ryan Gosling,” Louis answers. Which, technically, is not a lie, but he also likes _The Notebook_. He’s seen it what feels like a thousand times, can almost quote it word for word, and he definitely cried the very first time he watched it with his sister Lottie. Those are also things he’s not going to be telling Harry any time soon.

Luckily, it was only five minutes into the movie when Louis turned the telly onto a movie channel. He’s been sitting on this couch since he woke up this morning, but it’s nicer now that it seems like Harry is joining him. It’s funny how their positions have switched; with Harry who has spent hours in the practice kitchen each day this week and Louis who can’t be bothered to. Harry makes sure to remind him about it though with his “it’s so important to practice, Lou” and “remember when you were an arse about it to me last week?” but Louis finds it quite cute. He finds Harry quite cute.

They have been watching the movie in comfortable silence since Harry sat down, and it appears that they’ve also moved closer and closer to each other because Harry’s thigh is now pressed right up against Louis’ bent knee. As soon as Louis notices this, he can _feel_ the air in the room shift, become thicker. He flickers his gaze up to Harry’s face who is already staring at him, the green of his eyes much deeper than normal and Louis can even make out little brown and gold flecks within them. 

It’s raining in the movie, the scene where Noah and Allie are in the boat, but Louis could not give any less of shit about that right now because of the way Harry is looking at him. It’s like that scene in a movie when the two people you’ve been rooting for to get together finally kiss. When they’re staring at each other, everything around them still and quiet, and you just keep chanting _kiss, kiss, kiss_ , which is very similar to what Louis is chanting in his head.

Harry is the one who moves first. Louis lets his eyes fall shut just a second before he feels Harry’s lips brush against his own, feeling just as pillowy soft and plump as Louis imagined they’d be. It’s wonderful, _perfect_ , the way Harry’s lips move against his, the way he whines into the kiss. It’s softer, much more gentle that what Louis was expecting and it literally takes his breath away. Harry kisses much like the way he talks, slow and meticulous. 

Louis parts his lips to deepen this kiss and Harry eagerly licks into his mouth. When their tongues slide over each other, it feels like an electric shock shooting through every cell of Louis’ body. Harry tastes so good Louis just wants to devour him for _hours_. He blindly places his hands on Harry’s hips, trying to pull him as close as physically possible.

Their lips press together harder, damp and electric, until Harry sucks Louis’ lower lip between his own with a soft sigh before pulling back completely. Louis keeps his eyes shut, fully expecting Harry to dive back in, but when a few seconds go by and nothing happens, he opens his eyes.

Harry’s sitting all the way on the other end of the couch, a hand over his mouth and his eyes wide and terrified. “Harry?” Louis asks, his voice raspy.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“What?” Dread sits heavy in the pit of Louis’ stomach. “Why are you sorry?”

Harry shuffles until he’s sitting on the couch properly, facing away from Louis and blinking up at the television screen where the movie is still playing. “I know you don’t like me like that,” he whispers again. “You hated me the first week and now we’re kind of friends and I’m just really confused and I’m sorry.” This is a complete three-sixty from the confident Harry that said Louis would be eating out of the palm of his hand. 

“Harry, no,” Louis scoots closer and takes Harry’s hand into his own. He doesn’t pull away so Louis takes that as an okay to continue. “I _tried_ to hate you the first week because I didn’t want to be distracted by you because I was wildly attracted to you. Still am. Even more so now that I know you better.”

“You are?” 

“God, yes,” Louis says. “Now can you please come back and kiss me some more?”

There’s a smile on Harry’s face now, but Louis doesn’t get to enjoy the way it looks for very long before Harry’s crashing their lips together, licking into his mouth, like he’s starving. Like he needs Louis’ lips on his just as badly as Louis needs it. It’s much more insistent than it was the first time around, and it already has Louis’ head swimming, heat licking up his spine.

Neither of them flinch or pull apart when they hear the sound of Niall’s voice yelling from somewhere behind them. “I fucking knew it!”

Louis can feel Harry's lips curling into a smile against his mouth and he just lifts up his middle finger in the direction he thinks Niall is in. And he must have gotten it right when he hears Niall’s loud cackle in reply.

\--

So that’s a thing now. The kissing. It’s pretty much constant. Louis’ always loved kissing, probably one of his favourite pastimes, and he _loves_ kissing Harry. Harry’s lips are so supple and he tastes of mint from the gum he’s always chewing and also a bit of something sweet yet sharp like honey. And, god, Louis just can’t get enough. Their lips slot together perfectly, like they were literally made to be attached by the mouth.

Niall’s always giving them shit about it, too. He keeps bragging about how he’s some relationship guru because he predicted from the beginning that they were going to end up together. Louis’ not really sure if he and Harry are _together_ , they just like to snog twenty-four hours.

“Louis, will you come here a minute? I need your help with something.”

He’s in the living room, where’s he’s been for the majority of this whole week, watching some news story with Niall about an overturned lorry, when he hears Harry calling him from the direction of the bedrooms. 

Grudgingly, Louis gets up from the spot he’s carved for himself on the sofa and shuffles his way down the hall towards his room. Before he even has time to step into his room, there’s a hand reaching out to grab a fistfull of his shirt and shoving him up against his bedroom door. And then there’s a hot, wet mouth pressing against his own.

At first it’s a little painful because the molding on the door is digging right into the small of Louis’ back, but the way Harry’s lips are wetly sliding against his own quickly make him forget about the pain. Harry groans deep in his chest as he suckles on Louis’ tongue and steps even closer and, fuck, Louis doesn’t think that’s a phone in Harry’s pocket he feels rubbing against his crotch.

Harry pulls back only to lower his mouth to Louis’ neck where he’s sucking hotly, no doubt trying to leave a mark. “I’m guessing you didn’t really need my—my help with something?” He stutters when Harry bites down on the juncture where his shoulder meets his neck. 

“Nope,” Harry pulls away from his neck, his lips shiny and red. “Just wanted you.” And then he’s dropping to his knees. Every bit of amusement rushes out of Louis so fast it makes him dizzy.

He grips the bottom of Louis’ shirt, lifting it just enough to expose the strip of skin above his shorts. He places feather-light kisses to the patch of downy hair right below Louis’ bellybutton. Harry’s fingers make their way inside the waistband of Louis’ shorts.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, even though he’s pretty sure he knows exactly what Harry’s trying to do.

“What does it look like I’m doing,” Harry says against the skin of Louis’ stomach. 

“Are you sure you want to?” He wishes he could shut up. 

Harry sits back and looks up at Louis. “Yes, really fucking sure. Now, will you shut up and let me suck you off?”

 _Fuck_. “Yes, okay. Carry on.”

That seems to please Harry because he tugs down Louis shorts and pants in one go and sucks Louis’ dick into his mouth without preamble. Jesus fucking _Christ_. Louis sags against the door and tries to remember how to stay upright.

He tangles his fingers into Harry’s curls, just to have something to do with his hands. He tightens his grip when Harry groans, the vibrations tickling Louis’ cock as he moves down, the resistance at the back of his throat constricting around the head of Louis’ dick making his toes curl into the carpet. 

Harry curls his tongue against the underside of Louis’ cock, licking over the thick vein there. Louis’ eyes roll into the back of his head. He hasn’t been this close to coming this quickly since he was fourteen and first discovered wanking and realized his love for David Beckham went a little deeper than his footie skills.

Harry draws off and stares intently up at Louis with these big round doe eyes as he licks up and down the shaft of Louis’ dick, one hand gently tugging at his balls. He sucks a kiss right over Louis’ slit before swallowing him back down. Everything is wet and hot and tight and Louis has to _fight_ to control his hips, to avoid just fucking into Harry’s mouth. Something tells him that Harry would like that, though. He pushes that to the back of his mind for later.

“Shit,” Louis grunts, arching his back. Harry’s hand pumps the base of Louis’ cock while he suckles on the head, his tongue dipping into the slit every now and then. Louis feels that spark of heat at the bottom of his spine and he knows isn’t going to last much longer. He looks down to see Harry stroking his own cock, just barely peeking out of his jeans, and that’s fucking _it_. 

He whines and only manages a weak tug on Harry’s hair in warning as he comes _hard_. Sharp little bursts of pleasure radiate within him and he’s vaguely aware that Harry doesn’t pull away, just keeps sucking him through it.

Louis slides down the door, Harry instantly crashing their mouths together when he reaches the ground. He feels Harry’s lips go slack and gasp into his mouth when he comes into his fist.

“Fucking hell,” Louis says a little strangled when they pull apart. He’s having a little trouble remembering how to breathe. Harry giggles and buries his head in Louis’ neck. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Harry shrugs, sitting up. His dick is still poking out of the top of his jeans, looking ridiculous “Like I said, I just wanted you.” He pulls his shirt off and uses it to wipe up the mess on his hand.

Louis follows and takes his shirt off as well, feeling much more comfortable totally naked. And he loves the way Harry eyes roam across his body hungrily. “I wish we had some lube, though. Could maybe go again. I never got a chance to get my hands on you.”

Harry perks up at that, his eyes finally making their way to Louis’ face.” I have some.”

Louis arches an eyebrow. “You brought lube with you? To _Chopped_?”

“I’m going to be here for a month, Louis. A man has needs.”

“Well,” Louis starts, trying his best to sound seductive. “If you go grab that lube, I’ll satisfy those needs for you.” Harry stands up so quickly that he trips on the bottom of his jeans and nearly brains himself against the wall. “Smooth Styles.”

“Just pretend that didn’t happen.” He’s looking down at his endearingly pigeon-toed feet, a pink blush high on his cheeks. Louis thinks he looks so _pretty_ like that, wonders if the rest of his body flushes similarly while he’s getting fucked. Which, Louis might just be lucky enough to find out here in a few minutes. “I’ll be back shortly.”

While Harry is gone, Louis situates himself in the middle of the bed, his right hand reaching down to wrap around his half hard dick. He moves his hand up and down slowly, his eyes drifting shut at the feel of it. He hears Harry coming down the hallway whistling something that Louis thinks might be Fleetwood Mac, but the whistling cuts off abruptly when he enters the room.

Louis opens his eyes to see Harry standing in the doorway, a bottle of lube clutched tightly in his left hand, and his eyes locked onto where Louis has his hand wrapped around himself. Harry’s eyes slowly travel up his chest until they lock gazes. “You’re so fucking sexy.” The words tumble out of Harry’s mouth so quickly, almost like he didn’t mean to say them aloud.

Louis can feel himself blushing and he tucks his chin to his chest. He’s been called a lot of things in his lifetime but he’s never once been called _sexy_. And Harry, who looks like the literal god of sex, calling him that. It’s a lot.

Finally, Harry moves and steps out of his jeans, kicking them along with his boxers off to the side. Christ, he’s gorgeous, his body is so long and lean. Louis needs Harry on him _now_ , so badly that his mouth goes dry with it.

As if he could read Louis’ thoughts, Harry climbs onto the bed and settles himself half on top of Louis, instantly leaning in to kiss him. Louis’ hands rove across the large expanse of Harry’s back, stopping right above the swell of his bum. “Wanna fuck you,” Louis mumbles against Harry’s lips.

“Yes,” Harry groans, his voice deep and gravely. “Lou, _please_.” 

Rolling them over so he’s on top, Louis grabs the bottle of lube and shuffles his way down Harry’s body. He kisses down the length of Harry’s cock just because he can and to hear the gorgeous throaty moan Harry lets out at that.

He slicks up his fingers and in no time at all, he’s sinking one into the tight heat of Harry’s body. Harry _mewls_ and throws his head back against the mattress. Louis thrusts that one finger in and out for a bit, allowing Harry to get used to it, and then he squeezes in two more alongside it when Harry cries out for more.

Harry is absolutely _stunning_ like this. That flush Louis was thinking about earlier is rising up over his chest and neck as he fucks himself on Louis’ fingers. He’s just wild and full of abandon, completely lost in the moment. Louis is captivated and so fucking hard it hurts.

When Harry says he’s ready, Louis rips open a condom (which Harry apparently brought with him as well) and rolls it on. He lines himself up with Harry’s hole and pushes in slow and steady. Harry’s eyes are clenched shut, his plump bottom lip being held down by his teeth. “You alright, babe?” Louis asks, stopping about halfway in. 

Harry opens his eyes, his pupils completely blown out, and smiles up at Louis. “Yes. Perfect. Keep going.” He grips Louis arse and _pushes_. Louis takes the hint and sinks all the way in, Harry’s body accommodating him beautifully. He has to take a second to catch his breath once he’s bottomed out because he surrounded by tight, white-hot heat and it feels far better than he could ever imagine.

Louis leans down on top of Harry so their torsos are flush and Harry’s cock is trapped between them. He bites at Harry’s lips as his hips grind in deep shallow motions, capturing Harry’s wanton moans into his mouth.

He sit up and hastily grabs one of Harry’s legs and drapes it over his shoulder, his hips pulling back before snapping back in. Hard. Louis works up a rhythm, dragging out slowly then pumping back in faster and faster. The slap of their skin and Harry’s loud keens the only sounds in the room. 

Harry’s dick is so hard and heavy, leaving a pool of precome on his stomach and Louis can’t believe _he_ is the reason Harry is like this. The reason he’s laid out underneath him, positively losing it, and so beautiful.

“Louis, fuck,” Harry whines. “I”m close.”

Reaching out to take Harry’s cock into his hand is all it takes for Harry to come with a shout of Louis’ name, he throws his head back in release, his back bowing off the bed. He’s clenching like a vise around Louis and Louis stills, buried deep as he’s shoved over the edge. He gracelessly drops on top of Harry, shuddering from the aftershocks.

For a few moments they just lay there, breathing heavily into each other’s ears. Harry placing sloppy, wet kisses against Louis’ neck. Louis leans back and there’s Harry, smiling brightly up at him. Their lips connect, moving together languidly.

Eventually Louis pulls out and rolls over, tying and tossing the condom into the bin next to the dresser. He bends over the edge of the bed to grab the shirt Harry cleaned up with earlier and uses to to wipe down Harry’s tummy and thighs.

Louis takes the duvet that was bunched up at the end of the bed and pulls it up over their bodies, cuddling up against Harry’s side.

“So,” Harry says, kissing Louis’ shoulder. “That was pretty great.”

“Mm,” Louis hums in reply, feeling a little self-satisfied. “It was.”

A few seconds later, Niall appears in the doorway with one of his hands shielding his eyes. “Are you two done yet? I could hear your sex noises all the way in the living room.”

Harry snickers as he tries to hide his laughter in Louis’ chest and Louis wraps his arm around him, pulling him closer. “Sorry, Nialler,” Louis tries to say with a straight face.

“Yeah, whatever.” Niall waves around his free hand. “Just next time you wanna bone, maybe close the door. I would have brought my laptop if I wanted to watch porn.” He turns and walks back towards the living room mumbling ‘ya horny bastards’ under his breath.

That sets Louis off and he feels tears prickling his eyes from his laughter.

\--

There’s something damp against his forehead, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. He groans and stretches out in the sheets before opening his eyes.

“He’s awake!” Harry cheers right in front of his face. The dampness is back against his cheek, the culprit being Harry’s lips. They spent last night in Louis’ bed, talking late into the night until Harry’s eyes started drooping. He was far too tired to get up and go to his own bed, and frankly, Louis didn’t want him to leave.

“Why did you wake me up?” Louis grumbles, rolling onto his side so his back is facing Harry.

But Harry just crawls closer to him and rests his head in the curve of Louis’ waist. “Because I’ve been awake for hours and I’m bored.”

“Hours?”

“Okay, more like ten minutes, but I’m bored.” He ruffles Louis’ hair. “Lou, come play with me.”

“I’d rather sleep.” What time is it? Louis sticks his arm out from underneath the sheets to grab his phone from off the nightstand. He clicks the button on the side, the screen lighting up showing him the time is a few minutes past ten.

There’s a gasp from behind him. “Who’s that?” Louis tilts his head to see Harry staring wide-eyed at his phone. The background on Louis’ phone is a selfie he just recently took of himself and Winston. Yeah, he’s one of those pathetic people whose lockscreen is a picture of themselves and their cat. It’s quite a cute picture though.

“Oh, that’s Winston,” Louis answers.

“You have a cat?” Harry asks, taking the phone from Louis when he offers it to him. “He’s so cute.” He literally coos, his finger stroking over Winston’s face on the screen.

Louis smiles fondly. “He’s spoiled rotten and doesn’t like to listen to me most of the time, but he’s a good one. I’ve got some videos of him if you’d like to see.”

Harry nods so hard his hair flops in front of his face. “Yes please.” He hands the phone back to Louis, who types in his passcode and scrolls through his photos until he finds a good video. He stops on one of when Winston was a kitten and he tried to fit himself inside an empty tissue box, before handing it back to Harry. “What breed is he?”

“He’s an Egyptian Mau.” 

“He’s the cutest cat I’ve ever seen,” Harry says in awe, his eyes never leaving the screen. After about seven more videos, Harry is officially in love with Winston. Louis understands because after one look at him, Louis was hooked.

Somehow, Harry convinces Louis to sit in with him while he’s practicing, and it’s mesmerizing to watch him like this. He’s literally in his element, completely focused on what he’s doing and Louis can tell just how _good_ he is at it. It’s also a bit intimidating. Harry’s definitely going to be the one to beat. Plus, Louis gets to be the taste tester after everything Harry makes, which he’s very happy about.

\--

Louis is lying face down on the bed. He’s sweaty, exhausted, and his legs feel like jelly. He’s worried that he’ll never be able to move again and he'll have to forfeit the competition. He thinks Harry literally just fucked his brains out.

“Lou, you alive?” Harry asks from somewhere in the vicinity, his feet softly padding across the carpet. 

“Mmm,” he hums into the pillow underneath his face. “Barely.”

“Well since you’re still alive, can you roll over for me? I’ve got to clean you up.”

“No. Can't,” Louis grumbles. “I can’t move. Just leave me here to die.”

Harry chuckles. “You're so dramatic.” Louis can _hear_ him rolling his eyes. 

“Don’t be mean,” Louis pouts. “You just fucked the life out of me.”

Harry snorts and places his large hands on either side of Louis’ hips and flips him onto his back. And there he is, hovering above Louis in all his beautiful glory. Eyes bright and lips kissed raw and cherry red. “Hi,” Louis smiles up at him.

Harry’s answering smile is so soft that it kickstarts something deep inside Louis’ chest, something that has been dormant for years. “Hi.” 

He gives Louis’ forehead a featherlight kiss as he swipes the wet flannel over Louis’ tummy. Louis sighs happily.

Hours later, they're snuggled together underneath the duvet, having opted to spend the entire day in bed. Warm naked skin pressed against warm naked skin. Louis lazily drawing patterns on Harry’s chest. “Tell me about your family,” Louis says into the quiet of the room. 

“My family?” Harry shifts, his foot brushing up against Louis’ calf.

“Yeah. My family is the most important thing in my life and I want to know about yours,” Louis tells him. “You parents. Your siblings, if you have any. Just. Tell me about them.”

“Okay,” Harry begins, his lips slowly pulling up into a smile. “Well my mum is my biggest fan. She's always supported me one hundred and ten percent. She's warm and inviting and always smells like vanilla and apples. She accepts and loves everyone for who they are. She's the bravest person I know. She's been through so much and she never lets it bring her down. She always has a smile on her face. I’m not being biased when I say this, but she is one of the loveliest people I have ever known.”

“My parents divorced when I was little and unfortunately I don't get to see my dad as often as I'd like. With me being in Brighton now it's just harder to see him.” Louis can see the slight downturn of Harry’s lips, but he recovers quickly and continues. “He's really reserved and quite a private person and some people may think he's rude because of that but he's far from it. He's honestly one of the most genuinely nice people I have ever known. He's a great listener and very caring. He's always there when you need a hug or shoulder to cry on. But he also knows when to have fun and it's never boring being with him.” 

“My stepdad is amazing. He's very funny and just filled to the brim with awful dad jokes. He's incredibly smart and driven. Not afraid to say whatever is on his mind. He's not afraid to call me on my shit and he always finds things to make fun of me for, but in a loving way you know. And most importantly he makes my mum so happy.” 

“And then there’s Gemma. My older sister,” Harry says, moving his arm so it’s curled around Louis’ waist. “She's my best friend. My favourite person in the world. You remind me of her sometimes because you both have that quirky sense of humor. I think the two of you would really get on. She's just this confident and independent young woman and I admire her so much for that. And whenever she sets her mind to something she gets it done. Absolutely nothing will get in her way. She knows me better than anyone. Better than I know myself probably. She's actually the one who convinced me to audition for the show.” 

It’s amazing to hear Harry talk about his family. Louis can tell by his words how much he loves them, how close he is with them. His voice is slow and soft like honey, Louis could listen to him talk for hours. For the rest of his life maybe.

“Once a week I'd go over to my gran’s house and spend the whole day in the kitchen cooking with her,” Harry continues.” She taught me everything she knew. And then after I attended culinary school, I taught her a few things. We were very close. And when she died it just hit me really hard. When I found out I drove to her house and sat on the floor of the kitchen, where we spent so much of our time together, and just cried and cried for hours.”

Louis takes a sharp breath. “Harry.” He can hear how hard it is for Harry to get the words out, how choked up he sounds. He tangled their fingers together and squeezes Harry’s hand, just to let him know that he’s here, that it’s okay. Harry gives him a small, watery smile in response and clears his throat before he barrels on again.

“After that I never stepped foot in a kitchen, would barely even look at the one in my apartment because it would remind me too much of my gran. I stopped cooking altogether, would just order takeout or go out to eat, because it didn't feel right to me to enjoy it without her. Then Gemma made me realize how ridiculous I was being. Literally kicked my arse into the kitchen and made me start cooking again. She told me that was how I could keep the memory of gran alive that she'd always be there with me in spirit. And as crazy as it may sound, I can _feel_ her with me whenever I cook. Gemma thought I should audition and I did. I'm doing it for my gran and I know that she'd be so proud of me.”

“You’re making her so proud, Harry.” Louis brings their joined hands up to his mouth and places a soft a kiss against the back of Harry’s. “I know she’s smiling down at you.”

Then Louis tells Harry all about his family. How his mum is his best friend, the most important person in the world to him, how close they are because it was just the two of them for so long. That she is the first person he thinks of when he needs help, when he needs someone else's opinion. Nothing seems to cure him faster than a hug from his mum. He tells Harry about his wide array of siblings. Lottie, the oldest, studying at uni in Manchester and often comes to London to visit her big brother. Louis is so incredibly proud of everything she’s accomplished. 

Harry gets so excited when Louis tells him he has _two_ sets of twins in his family, apparently, Harry really likes twins, and he has to whip out his phone to show Harry pictures of the youngest ones. He describes how happy he was when he finally got a brother and he can’t wait until he’s a little older and Louis can teach him how to play football. He also tells Harry about how sad he is that he can’t see most of his family as often as he’d like because of his crazy work schedule, but he makes a point to call them every single day.

They really do spend the whole day in bed, sleeping on and off and trading stories. Louis’ never felt this _content_ spending an entire day doing nothing, and he has a feeling it all has to do with the person he’s spending it with.

\--

A shuffling in his ear is what wakes him up. It’s dark in the room, still dark outside, but he just barely make out the shape of someone moving around next to the bed.

“Harry?” Louis says, his voice raspy from sleep. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m going for a swim,” Harry responds. “Want to join?”

“A swim?” Louis asks, incredulous. “It’s the middle of the night. Come back to bed.”

“Can’t sleep, but you stay and I’ll try not to wake you when I come back.”

Louis watches as Harry putters around the room in the dark before sighing and tossing the sheets off him. “Okay, fine. I’ll come with you, stop pestering me.” How does Harry so easily talk him into everything? Honestly, Louis would walk into traffic if Harry asked him to.

He flicks on a lamp and digs through a pile of clothes on the floor looking for a pair of shorts or boxers or _something_ to swim in. 

“What are you doing?” Harry asks from behind him.

“I’m trying to find some shorts to swim in,” Louis explains, tossing a shirt to the side.

“Why can’t you just swim in what you’re wearing?”

Louis looks down at his body and then at Harry. “I’m naked.”

Harry nods. “Exactly.”

“Harold,” Louis raises a brow, one hand resting on his hip. “Are you suggesting that we skinny dip?”

The smile that appears on Harry’s face is nothing but pure mischievousness. “Yes, yes I am.”

That’s really all the convincing Louis needs. He takes a couple towels out of the bathroom and follows Harry out to the pool. It’s a little chilly this late without the help of the sun and Louis shivers, the concrete like ice beneath his bare feet.

Immediately, Harry dives right into the deep end, seemingly not deterred by the bite in the air. Louis sets their towels on one of the lounge chairs before taking a more subtle approach and using the steps in the shallow end. He tends to be a bit of a wimp when he’s cold.

Harry swims up to Louis as soon as he is waist deep, popping up out of the water with a cheeky grin. He places his hands on Louis’ shoulders and _pushes_ , effectively dunking him under. Louis’ barely able to get air in his lungs before he’s submerged, the water rushing over his head. By the time Louis surfaces, Harry is at the opposite end of the pool with his head thrown back in laughter. That’s it.

It becomes a dunk contest after that, both of them trying to dunk the other first. Harry is the one that surrenders first, complaining about how he can’t breathe. Even though Louis is celebrating about winning on the outside, he’s secretly grateful about it ending on the inside because his lungs are _burning_.

They swim around lazily after that, just enjoying each other’s company under the moonlight. Harry showing off his handstands, which Louis really wishes he wouldn’t do because it also shows off his long, long legs and those thighs. Louis wants to get his mouth on them.

Now, Harry has Louis caged up against the side of the pool, their bodies pressed tightly together, lips locked. Harry’s skin is slippery beneath Louis’ palms as he slides them down Harry’s back. His lungs are burning again but in the best way possible, he’s most definitely not complaining about it this time.

Just as Harry’s lips are trailing down Louis’ neck is when Louis notices movement out of the corner of his eye. He tilts his head to see Niall standing at the edge of the pool looking like he just rolled out of bed, his hair sticking up in every direction and only in a pair of boxers.

“Lads, do you happen to know what time it is?” Harry startles at the sound of Niall’s voice, pulling away from Louis’ neck. Louis has to rack his brain to remember the time, but before he has a chance to get there, Niall answers his own question. “It’s two fifteen in the morning, and some of us actually like to get a full uninterrupted eight hours of sleep. I could hear you two laughing and splashing and it woke me up.”

“Sorry, Ni,” Louis says, trying to pull Harry closer to him again. He’s gone cold without the heat of Harry’s body pressed against him. “We were trying to be quiet.”

“Sure you were.” Niall rolls his eyes. “It’s like I’m the dad and I always have to control you two children.” He turns around to walk back inside, calling out over his shoulder, “keep it down kids, dad needs his beauty rest.” Right before he reaches the door, he stops and faces them again, a stern look on his face. “And keep the hands above the waist, please. I don’t want to be swimming around in your bodily fluids.” The he disappears into the house.

“If he’s our dad, does that mean we are brothers?” Harry asks, hands gripping Louis’ hips. “Are we committing incest?”

Before Louis has a chance to answer that, Harry’s grip tightens and he’s being lifted into the air. He yelps as he flails around for a moment, and then he’s being set down, not so gently, with his bum resting on the edge and his feet dangling in the water. “What the hell, Harry?” Louis says, trying not to get turned on by the amount of upper body strength it took Harry to lift him up like that.

A sly smile makes its way onto Harry’s face. “Niall said to keep our hands above the waist, but he didn’t say anything about mouths.”

Louis’ eyes drop to Harry’s mouth and there goes all his effort of trying not to get turned on. Harry’s hands wrap around Louis’ ankles and slide up to his knees, pushing them apart so he can fit in between them. He leans in and takes the head of Louis’ cock in his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis breathes, letting his head fall back onto the concrete. He’s been half hard ever since coming out here, is pretty much constantly like that around Harry, but Harry’s mouth gets him fully hard in fucking no time at all. He’s way too good at this. He moves his legs to rest on Harry’s shoulders, boxing him in. 

Harry’s lips are soft and wet around him, his hand wrapped loosely around the base, as his tongue traces around the tip, stopping to press against that sweet spot right underneath the head and prodding the slit. Louis’ toes curl in the water and he whines, throwing an arm up to cover his eyes, already feeling wound tight.

The hand around the base of Louis’ dick grips tighter and the next thing he feels is wet hot heat enveloping his cock and Harry slides further down. It feels incredible. The velvety heat of Harry’s mouth around him and the _things_ he does with his tongue. How can he even move it like that with a cock in his mouth? And he gives himself over to the task fully, concentrating so hard, like this is the only thing that matters in the world right now. If cock sucking was an Olympic sport, Harry would take the gold, no fucking competition.

Harry starts bobbing his head up and down slightly, a slow, aching rhythm, taking more and more of Louis’ cock every time he moves down. Once he gets all the way down, the head of Louis’ dick nudging against the back of his throat, he pauses and breathes deeply through his nose, Louis can feel it against his stomach. And when Harry swallows around him, Louis sees stars.

“ _God_ , Harry,” Louis moans, reaching out blinding to card his hand through Harry’s hair, occasionally tugging because Harry seems to really like that. “Feels _amazing_ , love. You’re so good.” With every praise he gives Harry, the more Harry doubles his efforts, trying to make it good for Louis.

Louis’ hot, can feel the sweat building on his skin and pooling in the dips of his collarbones. It’s such a contrast to how cold he was when he first came out, and it’s all due to the fact that Harry has his mouth on him. He’s close too, feels the telltale pull of an orgasm forming in his gut. Just two more slides of lips against his length and a well timed flick of a tongue and he’s falling, spilling into Harry’s mouth. The fire sings through his body, burning from his toes to the tips of his fingers.

When he opens his eyes, Harry’s still between his legs, kissing along Louis’s inner thighs. His hand is still curled loosely in Harry’s curls and he gently yanks to get his attention. “C’mere.”

Harry awkwardly clambers out of the water, his own cock hard and standing at attention, Louis can’t take his eyes away from it, can’t wait to get his mouth on it. Harry straddles Louis’ chest and Louis leans his head up to return the favor. The way Harry looks and the way he sounds when he comes, Louis’ name falling from his lips, is well worth the crick Louis is definitely going to get in his neck from holding it at such an awkward angle for so long.

They make their way inside after that, tiptoeing as quietly as they can as to not wake Niall. They only separate from each other long enough to pull the sheets back on the bed and crawl underneath them, both falling asleep within a matter of minutes.

\--

“Good morning, sunshine,” Leona greets him the morning of the entree round. “Ready to kick some arse today?” Louis laughs as he slides in next to her in the golf cart and they head off towards the studio.

You would think that because Louis had already gone through this once, that it would be a bit easier this time around. But it’s not. At all. It’s just as terrifying as it was the first time, especially now that there are just three of them left. The bar is set a lot higher. 

The three of them are standing in front of their work stations when Ted walks out. “Please open your baskets for the entree round.” No introductions or anything, just getting right to it this time. Louis takes a deep breath and opens his basket. “And we have; beef tenderloin, snow peas, pretzels, and dried cherries. You have thirty minutes this time around, and the clock starts now.

Okay, beef tenderloin; easy, snow peas; no problem at all, Louis thinks he can come up with something to do with the cherries, but what the hell is he supposed to do with the pretzels? He rips open the bag and brings one up to his mouth, and it tastes exactly like a pretzel. Why did he think that would help? He doesn’t have time to dwell on it though, he needs to get the beef cooking now. 

He runs to the pantry to grab the ingredients he’ll need and heads back to his station with his arms overflowing. He rubs down the tenderloin with olive oil, sprinkling it with salt and pepper. In a bowl, Louis mixes together garlic, rosemary, and thyme. While he’s working he sees the package of pretzels sitting off to the side and an idea pops into his head. If this were a cartoon, there would be a light bulb turning on above his head. He’s going to coat the beef with the pretzels.

Grabbing a handful of them, he tosses them into the bowl with the herbs and crushes it up as best as he can. He rolls the oil coated tenderloin in this mixture, making sure to get all sides completely covered. He places that into a roasting pan and slides it into the oven. Now onto the last two basket ingredients.

Louis’ going to make a side salad with the snow peas and use the dried cherries for the dressing. Taking out a small frying pan, he drizzles it with oil and adds the snow peas as well as some shredded carrots, just to steam them and get them soft. He drops the cherries into a saucepan with some red wine vinegar.

Running back to the pantry, Louis grabs red and green leaf lettuce, walnuts, and dijon mustard. He takes the snow peas and carrots off the heat and tosses them in a bowl with the lettuce. He adds the walnuts and the leftover dried cherries as an afterthought. 

The vinegar with the cherries is bubbling and perfect and Louis strains it to get the cherries out. He mixes in the mustard, a little bit of garlic, and a little bit of salt and pepper, then drizzles that over the salad. 

He grabs the plates he needs and spoons a little of the salad onto the side of each plate. Just as Ted calls out that there is five minutes remaining, Louis is pulling his tenderloin out of the oven. He cuts into it and it’s _perfect_ , juicy and just a bit pink in the the middle. He continues to cut it into eight pieces, each about an inch think, and places two pieces onto each plate. 

The judges are much harsher this round. They all agree that Louis’ plate tastes great, but it’s inconsistent and one of them even says that he didn’t transform the ingredients enough, which is bullshit. They don’t have many good things to say about Harry and Niall’s dish either and Louis’ not sure which one of them will be going home this time.

Sitting in the holding room waiting for the judges to make their decision is awful. Louis’ sitting next to the two guys he’s come to know very well over the last few weeks and he doesn’t want to see either of them go. They’re both incredibly talented and they both deserve this, and yes, Louis desperately wants to win, but he’d rather it be him going home than one of these two. 

In the end, though, it’s Niall who gets chopped. He takes it brilliantly, just like Louis knew he would, but it sucks. Once the cameras have cut off, Harry runs over to Niall and pulls him into a hug. “I’m going to miss you, dad.”

Louis chuckles, as Niall pulls him into the hug as well. He and Harry have taken to calling Niall dad every chance they can get ever since that night in the pool.

They hug for a long while, lots of tears being shed. Mostly on Harry’s part, but Louis will admit he lets a few fall himself. He’s really going to miss Niall.


	3. Dessert

It was weird in the house when Liam left, but it’s even weirder with Niall gone. It’s so quiet without his loud cackle or his random bouts of singing. Louis misses him a lot, it’s almost like he just lost his best friend. Which, in a way, he has. He became really close with Niall in that short amount of time, even though he spent the last part of it mainly with Harry. If Niall didn’t live all the way in stupid Ireland, Louis knows they’d be spending a lot of their free time together. They did exchange numbers though and Niall has promised to facetime as much as he can.

Now, though, it's morning. Louis isn't sure how early in the morning, but it's definitely too early to be awake when he has nowhere to be. Yet, here he is, lying in bed wide awake. And it's only because his phone is ringing. He's too lazy to roll over and grab it from the pocket of the track bottoms he wore last night, but the ringing is keeping him from falling back asleep.

He might just check who it is and then decided whether or not he’ll answer. It might be important, like someone from his restaurant. Who else would be calling him at this ungodly hour?

When he sees the picture of him and his mum from Christmas a few years ago flash across the screen, he instantly slides his thumb across it to accept the call.

“Morning,” he says when he brings it up to his ear, pulling on the trackies he took his phone out of.

“Good morning, darling,” his mum chirps back to him. It's so nice to hear her voice. He hasn't spoken to her since he started the show. Which was almost a month ago. “How are things going?”

“It's a lot harder than I had anticipated but things are—” he stops when he sees Harry emerge from the bathroom. A towel tied low on his hips and another he's rubbing over his head to dry his hair with. He's humming a song Louis doesn't recognize underneath his breath. A smile spreads across Louis’ face and he gets that weird warm, tight feeling in his chest again. He wishes it would stop because he just doesn't know what it is. “—good. Things are really good.”

“I'm so happy to hear that, love. Have you won yet?”

Louis chuckles lightly. “You know I'm not allowed to talk about that.”

“Oh come one. You can—” She’s still talking but Louis isn’t really paying attention because Harry is now making his way over to him and he places a soft kiss against Louis’ forehead.

“Morning, babe.” He says it just low enough that Louis prays his mum didn’t hear it, but then all he hears is silence coming from the other end of the phone. Hopefully she just finished what she was saying and is waiting for him to reply.

“Who was that?” No such luck.

“Who was who?” Louis asks, feigning innocence.

“That voice. I just heard someone—” she gasps. “Louis do you have _a boy_ in your room?” She says it like he’s still sixteen and sneaking boys into his bedroom through the window.

He rolls his eyes. “No, it's just one of the other contestants.”

“But he called you babe.”

“Yeah, but he calls everyone babe.” He knows he’s panicking now and he’s trying to come up with something on the spot. How does he explain Harry to his mum when he doesn’t even know how to explain him to himself. “He’s just one of those annoyingly nice people who—”

“Louis stop,” his mum interrupts. “Just tell me about him.”

“There’s nothing to tell. We aren’t—”

“Louis William.” Great. She’s bringing out the big guns by using his middle name. He instantly feels like a little boy all over again and he's being scolded by her. He was never very good at lying to his mum. She could always see right through even the smallest of lies and since they've always been so close, lying to her has always felt wrong.

He takes a deep breath and just goes for it. “Okay, well. I guess we’ve been like kind of hanging out?” He phrases it like a question because he doesn’t really know how to put it and he's definitely not telling his mum that they’re just fuck buddies. Which is what they are right? Well, there may be some sort of feelings in there somewhere, mostly on his own part he’s sure, but he’s not saying that either. He doesn't even know what he and Harry are. They’ve never had that discussion and frankly he’s quite terrified to ever have that discussion.

“Hanging out?” She says it like she doesn’t quite believe him. “Is that code for having sex?”

Louis is so surprised by that response he almost chokes. “ _Mum_!”

“What?” She questions. “We’re both adults so we can discuss this like adults.”

“Yeah it doesn't really work that way when you're my mother.”

“Oh stop being such a prude. I understand how sex works. I mean look at the amount of children I have.”

At first he was so shocked that his mum just called him a prude, but now he needs to wash his ears out with bleach. “Wow, this has gone way too far. We are not talking about this.”

“And why not?” His mum asks.

He needs to get out of this. And fast. “Okay then mum, it was so nice to talk to you but I have to go now.”

“Aw Lou, come on. Don’t be like that. Just tell me his name then. What’s his name?”

“I’m really sorry but they’re actually calling us to the studio for some last minute filming. I really have to go.”

He hears his mum sigh through the phone. “Fine. I love you very much and I’m so proud of you. Please come visit soon we all miss you!”

“Okay will do. Bye!” He hangs up and tosses his phone to the complete opposite side of the bed like it personally offended him.

“What was that about?” Harry asks, a laugh evident in his voice. Louis looks up at him to see that he’s dressed now. Almost. He’s in a pair of jeans but his flannel shirt is still hanging open and unbuttoned. Louis’ always had a thing for Harry’s chest and a tingle shoots through his body.

“My mum wanted me to tell her about me and you having sex.” Louis explains

Harry’s eyes widen in shock. “What?”

“Yeah I know. It was so awkward,” Louis adds. “Occasionally, I'll talk about that kind of thing with Lottie, but never my _mum_. That’s just weird.”

“I know what you mean. Gems and I discuss our sex lives as if we’re talking about the weather.” Louis watches as Harry’s long fingers move swiftly as he buttons his shirt. “Like it was awkward enough to have _the talk_ with your parents when you were like twelve. I can’t imagine a conversation similar to that being any less awkward now.”

“Exactly, “ Louis exclaims. “It will never not be awkward with your parents.”

“You know,” Harry says, a smirk playing on his lips. “All this sex talk has gotten me kind of hot.”

Louis’ eyebrows raise. “You’re insatiable.”

“You can’t just casually bring up sex when you look like _that_ —” he gestures towards Louis’ body “—and then not do anything about it.”

Louis glances down at his bare chest and his dirty trackies. “Look like what? I just woke up.”

“That’s precisely my point. You’re shirtless and sleep rumpled and soft.”

He’s not sure how that’s a turn on, but Louis will take the compliment. “I haven’t even showered yet. I probably stink.”

Harry shakes his head. “Not possible. You always smell so good.”

“But you’re already dressed,” Louis points out dumbly. He’s not even sure why he’s still making excuses.

“I can get undressed just as easily. It’s not like it’s hard.” He slowly makes his way over to where Louis’ perched on the side of the bed. “But you know what is hard.” He waggles his eyebrows like an idiot.

“Oh god,” Louis snorts out a laugh. “You’re awful.”

Harry just climbs right into Louis’ lap and settles himself atop his thighs like he belongs there. “Just give in, Lou. You know you want me.”

“Not particularly, no.” Harry juts out his bottom lip and bats his eyelashes. “Don’t use that look on me, Styles. It doesn’t work.

“That’s funny,” Harry says. “Because I seem to recall that it does.”

“I hate you,” Louis deadpans, because he’s shit at comebacks apparently.

“No you don’t.”

He’s right. He’s so right. Louis doesn’t hate him in the slightest. Quite the opposite actually. But he does think that is enough chit chat and he shuts Harry up the best way he knows how. With his mouth. 

\--

That’s now five unfinished desserts that went straight into the bin. Louis feels like shit. He’s been in the kitchen all morning and he hasn’t been able to do a single thing right. He’s tried making the most simple of desserts and still ran out of time each fucking time. The stress of this competition is _finally_ catching up to him. How did he even make it this far? He’s completely useless. He should have been the first one to go home, not Liam.

He’s frustrated and stressed and he’s starting to get fidgety. He can’t stand to be in this kitchen for a second longer. He needs Harry. He walks down the hallway towards their bedroom. Harry just kind of moved into Louis’ room since they both tend sleep there anyway. The door is already open and Louis takes a few tentative steps into the room. Harry’s on the bed propped up against a mountain of pillows, a book open in his lap. He doesn’t look up when Louis enters, must be too engrossed in the book.

“Harry?” Louis says, his voice wavering way more than he’d like it to.

“Lou,” Harry finally looks up at him, concern etched across his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” He knows what he wants and he knows it’s ridiculous. He’s never even done it before. He also knows that they should probably talk about it before just jumping straight into it, but how does he talk about it when he doesn’t even know how to ask for it. “Need you.”

Luckily, _somehow_ , Harry knows exactly what Louis is trying to say and he can visibly see Harry’s understanding. He closes the book and places it on the nightstand and sits up straighter in the bed. “Yeah? Want me to get you out of your head for a bit?”

 _Yes_. That’s exactly what Louis wants and Harry understands. He’s not even questioning it, just going right along with it. Louis is so grateful he could _cry_. “Please.”

Harry pats the spot on the bed next to him. “Why don’t you come and lie down. Get comfortable.”

Louis does as he says and settles down onto the bed with his head resting on the pillow that Harry laid out for him. Harry straddles his hips as soon as he’s still and leans down to kiss him. It’s soft and gentle and the wet drag of Harry’s tongue against his own is everything Louis was needing. It instantly has Louis sinking into the mattress. When he tries to deepen the kiss Harry pulls away and kisses along his neck instead.

Then Harry is shuffling down his body and placing kisses across the strip of skin between the bottom of Louis’ shirt and the top of his jeans. Harry kisses every inch of Louis’ skin that’s exposed as he pushes his shirt up, sweet and just quick enough to leave Louis wanting more. With each brush of Harry’s lips, Louis feels all of his muscles relax even further. And by the time he’s naked; he’s hard and completely boneless and pliant.

“Feeling a bit more relaxed?” Harry asks. He’s perched on Louis’ thighs, still fully clothed, and with his hands resting just _inches_ from where Louis wants them the most.

Relaxed feels like a bit of an understatement. “Yeah.”

Harry smiles, slow and sweet. “Good.” He leans down and cradles Louis’ jaw in his hands, kissing him briefly. He runs the tips of his fingertips down the length of Louis’ arms and grips his wrists, pulling them up and over his head, pressing them against the bed. “Will you be able to keep them here?”

Louis nods even though he knows it’ll be hard because he’s already _itching_ to get his hands on Harry, he’s incredibly tactile during sex. Harry drags his hands back down Louis’ arm and onto his chest, digging his nails into his nipples causing Louis to hiss out a sharp breath and his back to arch off the bed.

And then without any warning, Harry’s hand is wrapping around Louis’ cock. He barely brushes his thumb over the tip before pumping his hand up and down. He’s moving at a leisurely pace, as if he’s on a fucking Sunday stroll instead of trying to get Louis off. The drag of it is dry and a little rough, which just makes it feel that much more intense.

Ever so slightly, Harry speeds up the movement of his hand. A loud moan escapes from between Louis’ parted lips, exceedingly embarrassing because they’ve only just begun. The knowledge that Louis’ hands are tied heightens his sensitivity and increases the pleasure. Then he remembers that his hands _aren’t_ tied, he can move them at any time, just reach out and touch, but Harry told him to keep them placed above his head and the last thing he wants is to disappoint Harry.

Harry keeps changing up the strokes, making them shorter or longer, faster or slower. Louis’ just starting to get used to one feeling when Harry changes it up again. On one particular stroke up, Harry _digs_ his thumb into the slit instead of gently brushing across it like before, and Louis gasps, his hips pushing up into Harry’s fist.

“Lou,” Harry says, his voice stern. “Stay still please.”

Louis whimpers, he doesn’t know if he can. The warm, tight hold Harry has on him feels way too good. He bites his lip and wills himself to not move.

The hand wrapped around him speeds up even more, properly stroking him now, tugs perfectly and presses at the tip on every other stroke. Louis moans unabashed and his hips jerk up without his permission.

He feels a hand on his hip holding him down. “Louis. I told you to be still.”

Louis blinks his eyes open and focuses on Harry’s face, which is cold and serious. Shame washes through Louis and his cheeks burn. He feels awkward and ashamed underneath Harry’s stare. “Sorry.”

Harry just nods and gets right back to it. He’s stroking Louis way too fast for his brain to catch up and everything sneaks up on him. He feels delirious, almost out of control. That sweet twisting in his stomach starts to get tighter and intense heat floods his body.

“Harry,” he breathes.

“Yeah, love?” Harry’s voice is much softer this time. “You close?”

“Yes,” Louis cries out. “‘m gonna—” Before the words are even out of his mouth Harry removes his hand and Louis wails.

“Stop whining,” Harry snaps. Shit, Louis didn't even realize he was still doing it. “If you had stopped moving like I told you to, you could have come.”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Louis says, feeling powerless in a way he never has before. “I'll stay still I promise.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks. “Maybe we should stop if you can't do one simple thing that I tell you to.”

 _No_. Louis shakes his head. “I'm sure. Please.”

Harry looks at him as if he doesn’t quite believe him. “Okay, then prove it.” And there’s that hand on his cock again, stroking hard and fast and Louis _can’t_. Harry knows exactly how to touch Louis just the way he likes and it feels way too good not to move. Louis tightly shuts his eyes and literally has to repeat _stay still_ over and over in his head.

The sharp pull in his gut creeps up on him so quickly, the heat completely overtaking him, he doesn’t even have time to warn Harry before he’s coming. His mind whites out and his fingers grasp at the sheets as the pleasure ricochets through his entire body.

When he is able to catch his breath, he slowly blinks his eyes open. Harry is still sitting atop his thighs, his hand slowly pumping Louis’ cock, come dribbling over the back of his hand. Louis is a bit sensitive after having just come and it hurts a little, but he just feels so _content_ that his eyes drift shut again.

“Thank you,” Louis hums as he sinks down into the pillow.

“You’re welcome, Lou. You did so well,” Harry replies, his hand still moving leisurely. “But I’m not done with you yet. Can you roll over onto your knees for me?”

Harry finally lets his hand fall away and stands up next to the bed. Louis scrunches up his face in confusion when he feels hands on either side of his hips helping him roll over onto his stomach. He’s a little sluggish after his orgasm but he musters up some strength to get up onto his hands and knees.

“Ah no. Just on your knees, love.” Harry slightly pushes down in between Louis’ shoulder blades until he’s resting on his elbows. “The curve of your back is insane.” Louis lets out a soft sigh when Harry runs his hand along his sweaty back until he’s gripping one of Louis’ arse cheeks.

He feels the bed dip as Harry climbs back onto it and settles behind him. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Harry mentions casually before placing a kiss against the small of Louis’ back. Both of his hands are on Louis’ arse now, massaging his cheeks and spreading them open, before rubbing down the inside of his thighs. It’s more relaxing than anything and Louis’ head keeps dropping lower and lower, feeling on the brink of sleep.

“ _Oh_ ,” Louis gasps quietly, perking right up when Harry pulls his arse cheeks wide apart and licks a messy stripe directly over his hole. “Oh, fuck—” Harry wiggles his tongue and does it again and again.

“This okay?” Louis shivers when Harry draws back a tad to ask, his hot breath ghosting over Louis’ wet skin.

A groan slips out of Louis without his permission when he lays the right side of his face onto the pillow he was laying on earlier. “Don’t fucking stop.”

Harry snuffs out a laugh before diving right back in, an arm slipping underneath Louis’ stomach to pull him even closer against Harry’s mouth. He’s relentless with it already, lapping away diligently, tongue flat and emitting low groans from his chest almost like he’s enjoying it more than Louis is.

Fingers press into Louis’ cheeks spreading them even fucking wider, a clever tongue licking messily all along his crack. Louis can literally feel Harry’s spit _dripping_ between his legs and he can’t even imagine what Harry’s face looks light right now. It should be gross, and any other time Louis would probably think it was, but now Harry is eating him out so fucking well that all he cares about is pushing his hips back onto Harry’s face for more.

Louis emits a squeak of pleasure when Harry purses his lips around Louis’ hole and _sucks_ before pointing his tongue and breaching the tight ring of muscle. His lips and chin moving with every twist and turn of his tongue. Louis grips the pillow tightly in his fists and shoves his face further into it.

He whimpers when Harry pulls back again. “Don’t muffle yourself, baby. Be loud. Wanna hear you.” He twists his tongue back inside and Louis yelps, arching his back even further.

His toes curl and his thighs start to shake uncontrollably as his squirms on Harry’s tongue. Harry’s making these pleased little sounds, almost like a fucking purr, as his tongue is fucking in and out, the vibrations from it shooting all throughout Louis’ body. He’s torn between pulling away and pressing even closer, but with Harry’s arm still tucked underneath his belly, Louis doesn’t have any other option but to stay exactly where he is.

A liquid that’s far too cold to be spit dribbles between his cheeks, and he realizes it must be lube when Harry sinks a finger in right along with his tongue. Louis doesn’t even know when he could have had the time to grab that. Harry keeps his finger buried deep and slowly drags his tongue out to lick the stretched skin around his finger. Louis’ breath gets caught in his throat and tears spring up to the corner of his eyes because it just feels way too good.

Another finger joins the second one and they both begin pumping in and out, speeding up with each inward thrust. They push inside hard and graze up against that sweet spot deep inside him and Louis cries out, his mouth stuck open as tiny gasps escape him. His stomach muscles twitch as Harry rubs the pads of both fingers over his prostate, coaxing precome to leak out of Louis’ cock which is hanging hard and heavy between his legs.

The tears are flowing freely now, he’s ridiculously overwhelmed. He is literally sobbing into the pillow. Louis has never cried during sex, never thought he would _ever_ be one to cry during sex, but Harry knows exactly how to take him apart. And his head is fuzzy and all he can focus on is how fucking incredible everything feels which just makes more and more tears come.

Harry adds a third finger, thrusting them in and out, the tip of his tongue still flicking rapidly around them. Louis’ knees start to hurt from their position against the mattress and they slide further apart which only causes Harry’s fingers to get even deeper somehow. And when Harry’s tongue snakes in alongside all three of his fingers, Louis almost blacks out.

“Harry,” the tears making his voice break on the second syllable. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, can’t get all the thoughts inside his brain straight. But Harry must understand something in his voice because the arm that has been holding him up is now reaching in between Louis’ legs and gripping his cock. One fast stroke and a pointed jab right at his prostate is all it takes for Louis to be pushed over the edge, spurting what seems like gallons of come onto the sheets below him. His legs finally giving out and he falls flat onto the bed.

He feels the bed move underneath him as Harry knee-walks his way up to him and gathers his boneless body into his arms, brushing the hair off of his sweaty, overheated forehead. “Oh, Lou,” he says softly. “You’re crying so much.” A thumb rubs away a tear from underneath Louis’ left eye. “Baby, look at me. Are you okay?”

The seriousness in Harry’s voice causes Louis to flutter his eyes open. Everything is a little blurry from all the tears, but Harry slowly starts to come into focus. He’s staring down at Louis, worry written all over his face. He manages to take a few hiccuping breaths before speaking. “Felt so good. Amazing. Thank you. So much.”

Harry tightens his arms around him and pulls him even closer against his chest. “You’re incredible, Lou. Broke down so beautifully. I can’t believe I was lucky enough to watch you lose yourself like that.” He presses a kiss into the top of Louis’ head. “Think you can go one more time for me?”

“I don’t—don’t know,” Louis stammers. His head hurts from even _thinking_ about coming again. “I’m so tired. Sensitive.”

“Okay, baby, that’s fine. You were so good. You can sleep now.” He shifts Louis in his arms and Louis’ hand brushes against Harry’s cock, which is lying thick and hard against his stomach. He must have taken his clothes off at some point.

He tries to sit up as best as he can with literally no energy left and being held in Harry’s vice-like grip. “You’re hard.” He nods his head towards Harry’s middle.

A chuckles slips out between Harry’s lips. “Of course I am. Look at you.”

Louis furrows his brow because he doesn’t understand what he has to do with that, he hasn’t done anything. He reaches between their bodies to wrap his hand around Harry’s cock, but before he even makes it there, Harry bats his hand away. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. This is all about you, yeah?”

His brow furrows even more at that. Why won’t Harry let him get him off? “But I want to make you come.” He is very close to pouting.

Harry bites his lip to stifle a moan, but Louis can hear it rumbling in his chest from their close proximity. “It’s alright, Lou. I will—”

“I can go again,” Louis interjects. “I promise.”

“You sure?” Harry asks. “I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

“I’m sure,” Louis affirms. “I want that in me.” He taps his fingers against Harry’s dick. He gets a bolt of strength out of literally nowhere and uses it to lift himself onto his hands and knees and pushes his arse out, looking over his shoulder at where Harry is sitting with his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Fuck,” Harry swears and fumbles his way behind Louis again. Louis sighs and hangs his head in between his arms as he feels one of Harry’s hands on his hip and the other spreading more lube around his hole. “You ready?” Harry asks as he runs just the tip of his cock through the wetness of Louis’ crack.

“ _Please_ ,” he’s barely able to get the word out before Harry’s pushing forward. His mouth drops open around a gasp because he can feel every inch of Harry as he gets deeper and deeper. He doesn’t know how his cock is already fully hard and twitching after having just coming his brains out _twice_ , but somehow it is and he’s definitely not complaining.

Once Harry is buried all the way inside, he barely gives Louis a chance to adjust before he’s pulling back and thrusting back in hard. Louis throws his head back and moans as Harry just fucking gives it to him.

The grip Harry has on his hips is so tight, Louis is sure there will be finger-sized bruises there in the morning. He _hopes_ there will be. He loves it when Harry marks him up. Makes him his.

On one particular thrust forward, Harry’s cock bumps right into Louis’ prostate and his arms completely give out, but before he faceplants into the pillow, Harry _tugs_ on his hair until his back is flush against Harry’s chest. Louis is disoriented for a moment, before he gets his bearings back and drops his head back onto Harry’s shoulder. He tucks his face into Harry’s neck and mouths wetly against it.

Harry’s got both arms wrapped around Louis’ middle to keep him upright and his hips just don’t stop fucking into Louis. And Louis is panting, his whole body _shaking_. His cock is bouncing back and forth, rock hard and dripping, from the force behind each one of Harry’s thrusts. He’s having trouble catching his breath and he can no longer move any part of his body so all he can manage to do is whimper pathetically against Harry’s neck.

Instead of wrapping his hand around Louis’ cock, Harry just uses the tip of two fingers to rub it up and down. Any other time Louis would find this absolutely _infuriating_ , a form of teasing that drives him crazy and not in a good way. Right now though, right now it’s exactly it. Just a few seconds of that maddening rubbing and Louis’ coming for the third time. It’s just a few weak dribbles but it feels like pure heaven and he’s pretty sure he passes out.

He's floating. Sleepy and sated. His thoughts are slow and sticky and he can't really figure out why, but he also doesn't really care because he's so relaxed. He feels as if he's become one with the mattress. He doesn't ever want to move. Except there's this really annoying buzzing in his ear that won't go away and he can't figure out where it's coming from. At least, he thinks it's a buzzing sound. It’s hard to tell because it's like his ears are stuffed full of cotton.

Slowly the buzzing becomes clearer and clearer and it starts to sound a lot like his name. His name coming from Harry. Which _Harry_. Louis lifts his eyes open which is a lot easier said than done because they weigh a ton. They haven't always been that heavy, have they? His vision is a little blurry but he can still make out Harry in front of him. Green eyes and dimples and so, so beautiful, wiping him down with a wet flannel.

“Hi.” He tries to smile but it turns into a grimace when he hears how weak his voice sounds.

“Hi,” Harry says back. His face breaking into a huge grin. “Welcome back.”

Louis scrunches up his nose. He was pretty sure he’d been here the whole time. He opens his mouth to say just that, but his brain doesn’t seem to understand how words work so he just ends up saying, “okay.”

Harry chuckles and it’s a beautiful sound. Like wind chimes tinkling. Louis puckers his lips and reaches out towards Harry. “Kiss me.” Harry chuckles again but gives in, placing a chaste kiss to Louis’ lips.

He pouts when he tries to deepen it and Harry just pulls away. “More please.”

“I’ve got to finish cleaning you up, love.”

“But,” Louis shuts his eyes and shakes his head, feeling gross and dejected. He starts to worry that Harry doesn’t want him anymore and he’s confused as to why he is feeling like that. “Did I not—Was I not good?”

“No, baby. No,” Harry assures him. He’s been calling Louis baby a lot today. It’s not a pet name Louis has ever particularly liked being called, but when Harry says it, it makes him feel warm inside. “You were absolutely perfect. So, so good. I just want to clean you up first so you aren’t uncomfortable. As soon as I’m done you can kiss me as much as you want, okay?”

Louis sinks back into the sheets, feeling pleased with that answer. “‘kay.”

Harry cleans both of them fairly quickly and climbs into bed next to Louis, pulling him close. Louis rests his head on Harry’s chest as Harry pulls the blankets up to cover them.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks once they’re both settled.

Louis scrunches his nose as he thinks about it. “Sleepy. But good. So good.”

“Okay, baby you can sleep. But first—” Louis can feel him shifting around before he talks again. “I’ve got a bottle of water and a bowl of fruit here. Can you try and get some of it down you?”

When Harry was able to get all of this, Louis has no clue, but a little ball of warmth begins to grow in his chest because Harry was thoughtful enough to get it for him. He sits up and takes the little tray from Harry. He gulps down the entire bottle of water. It tastes off somehow, but it’s cold and helps sooth the aching of his throat. He eats a few strawberries, a slice of kiwi, and a handful of grapes before he pushes it away. “‘M not hungry.”

Harry takes the tray from him and pops a couple of strawberries in his mouth before he places it on the nightstand. “You had a little bit and that’s good enough. Let’s sleep now.”

They lay back down how they were before, with Louis’ head pillowed on Harry’s chest and one of Harry’s arms wrapped around Louis’ waist.

Louis is just about to fall into a blissful sleep when Harry speaks. “You did so well today, Lou. Made me _so_ proud, I can’t believe.”

That ball of warmth doubles in size at Harry’s words. He kisses Harry’s nipple because it’s the closest thing to him before drifting off to sleep.

The next time Louis opens his eyes the sun is casting large shadows through the window. He must have been out for a few hours. He rolls onto his other side and there’s Harry, sitting up against the headboard reading the same book he was when Louis came into the room earlier, what now feels like days ago, but he closes it when he notices Louis is awake.

“Hey,” he says with a small smile. “You feeling okay?”

Louis clears his throat before sitting up. The sheets falling down his body and piling up in his lap “Yeah. Great and—” He can’t get the next words out because his stomach grumbles loudly effectively cutting him off. He places a hand against his stomach and looks down at it with furrowed brows. “And starving apparently.”

Both he and Harry share a laugh. “It’s about dinner time anyway. I’ll make us something to eat.” Harry throws the sheets off him and gets out of the bed. He slips into a pair of pants that were lying on the floor, which Louis is pretty sure are his.

Just as Harry is about to walk out of the room, Louis opens his mouth. “Harry wait.” Harry stops and turns to face him. With Harry’s eyes on him Louis suddenly feels nervous and he looks down at his lap. “I just wanted to say thank you. For like—” he waves his hand around in the air “—all that. It was exactly what I needed. And thank you for not questioning it and jumping right into with me.” He takes a deep breath and looks up at Harry before continuing. “I know we should have like talked about it, _definitely_ should have talked about it. But um, yeah. Thanks.”

Harry smiles and folds his arms, leaning against the doorjamb. “I’ve never done anything like that before. I’ve done some research on it because I’ve always been interested, but never done it. Never had anyone I wanted to do it with. I was nervous as hell though.” He laughs lightly and brushes a hand through his hair. “And scared shitless that I was going to do something wrong or hurt you. I’m just glad I could help.” Louis opens his mouth to respond to that, to say something about how he knows Harry would never hurt him, but Harry keeps speaking. “Cheese toasties and tomato soup okay?”

“Yeah, “ Louis smiles. “Sounds brilliant.”

\--

He digs around in the freezer and finds two tubs all the way in the back. “We only have—” Louis looks at the writing on each of the lids to find the flavor. “—chocolate and vanilla. So, no good flavors.”

They just had a quite vigorous (and incredible, if Louis does say so himself) round of sex, and literal seconds after they both finished, Harry rolling off of Louis, Harry had stated that he wanted ice cream. He jumped right out of the bed and strutted out of the room, not even bothering to put clothes on. Louis started at the doorway Harry walked through in shock before he slid on a pair of boxers and followed.

So now they’re here, in the real kitchen about twenty minutes until midnight, and Louis’ scooping some of both flavors of ice cream into two bowls for them. Harry’s patiently waiting on the floor with a can of spray cream, a squirty bottle of chocolate syrup, and sprinkles. Because he wasn’t happy unless he got to put sprinkles on his ice cream. He’s literally sitting bare-arse naked on the kitchen floor. Who even is he?

“But there’s vanilla,” Harry points out.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. No good flavors.” Louis licks the ice cream scoop clean before tossing it into the sink. “Like chocolate’s alright, but vanilla. Vanilla is just boring.”

Louis hands Harry his bowl and plops himself onto the floor, leaning back against the cabinets. He sprays a hefty amount of whipped cream on top of his ice cream.

“But vanilla is the best flavor. It’s my favourite,” Harry says aghast.

“You’re favourite flavor of ice cream is vanilla?” Louis asks. “Out of all the fucking flavors in the world, you choose vanilla? You have to add so much to it just to make it taste decent.”

“That’s not true,” Harry pouts. He dumps so many sprinkles in his bowl that you can hardly see the ice cream anymore. He really loves those sprinkles. “What’s your favourite, then?”

That’s easy. “Mint chocolate.”

“What?” Harry splutters around his spoon. “Mint is the _worst_ flavor for ice cream.”

Louis places a hand against his chest. “Don’t you disrespect my favourite flavor like that.”

“But you did it with mine.”

“Yeah, but that’s because vanilla is awful,” Louis explains. “Everyone in the world agrees with me.” His ice cream is pretty melty now and he mixes it all together with his spoon, making it turn a very unflattering browny-grey colour.

“Oh, so you personally asked everyone in the world their opinion on vanilla ice cream?” Harry inquires, his left eyebrow raising as if to say he knows Louis is full of shit.

“Sure did,” he replies. “Just trekked around the whole globe.”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“That’s because I already knew that your opinion didn’t matter.”

Harry gasps and Louis bursts into laughter, his eyes crinkling and his chest filling with warmth. The next hour or so goes about the same way, the banter flowing easily between them. This is nice, Louis thinks, being this comfortable, feeling this _at home_ , with someone he’s only known a short amount of time.

They’re both halfway through their second bowls when Harry picks up the bottle of chocolate syrup and points it towards Louis. “Since we have all this cream and chocolate syrup at our disposal, we should put it to good use.”

Louis quirks an eyebrow. “We are putting it to good use.”

“No, I mean like, I want to lick chocolate syrup out of your bellybutton.”

Louis laughs, not at all surprised that Harry brought this up, he’s like a horny teenager. “Um, no. That stuff is shit. It tastes like pure chemicals. And it’ll just make me all sticky, not even remotely sexy.”

Harry gives Louis the puppy dog eyes. And no, Louis is not going to fall for that again. He’s stronger now and won’t give into Harry that easily. “So that’s a no to food play, then?”

“That’s a hell no to food play,” Louis replies. “Are you sure you’re a chef? You should have more respect for food than that.”

“But…” Harry tilts the bottle of syrup towards the bowl in his other hand and squeezes some out, intentionally missing the bowl completely. The drop of chocolate falls and lands on his hip, right above where his soft cock is lying across his hip, some of it even dripping down onto his shaft. “Oops. I missed.” He blinks up at Louis, acting totally innocent.

Louis sighs. Harry is very persistent when he doesn’t get his way. “You missed it by a good five inches, mate. Didn’t seem like you were aiming for your ice cream at all.”

“How am I supposed to clean it up when both of my hands are full?” He raises his hands, one holding his bowl and the other holding the chocolate syrup.

“You want me to get it?” Louis guesses.

Harry nods excitedly, his curls flopping around with the movement. Louis reaches up to place his bowl on the counter and his hand brushes against the pile of napkins he set out earlier. He grabs one quickly before Harry can notice, and leans forward. At the last second he wipes away the mess on Harry’s hip with the napkin. “There you go. All clean.”

“Lou,” Harry whines, his bottom lip jutting out. “That’s now what I meant.”

Louis settles back against the cabinets, crumpling up the napkin and tossing it into the garbage bin. “Love, you don’t have to put chocolate syrup on your dick for me to put my mouth on it. Plus, I told you I don’t like that shit.”

“You like whipped cream though, right?” He switches out the bottle of syrup in his hand with the can of spray cream. He sprays a dollop onto each nipple, beaming up at Louis. “Just indulge me, please. We don't—” His words morph into a beautiful breathy gasp when Louis licks off the cream on his left nipple.

By the time they’ve finished, they’re filthy and in desperate need of a shower. They’re covered in so many sticky substances, Louis doesn’t even want to know what each one is. Harry had dug through the fridge and pulled out pretty much everything he thought was suitable. There’s whipped cream on the _ceiling_ , smears of something red on the cabinets which looks like ketchup, and blobs of something thick and gelatinous dripping down the front of the refrigerator. The kitchen probably won’t ever be the same. 

\--

“We should do something exciting.”

“Exciting?” Louis asks around a mouthful of the sandwich Harry made for him. Honestly, Harry is an incredible chef. He should be on a cooking show or something. “Are you bored?”

“A bit,” Harry replies from where his ridiculously long body is sprawled across the sofa. “Aren’t you? I mean, it’s just the two of us left in the house now. It gets kind of boring sometimes.”

“Oh, so you think I’m boring then?” Louis prods.

Harry sits up so quickly, Louis’ afraid he might have gotten whiplash. “No! Of course not, Lou. You know I love spending time with you.” It would be totally crazy if Louis’ heart fluttered at Harry’s casual mention of love, so it definitely does not do that. “I just think we should go somewhere. We’re allowed to leave the house so, let’s leave.”

“You got a place in mind?”

The look Harry gives him makes Louis think that whatever he is conjuring up in his head is only going to cause trouble. “Yes. There is somewhere I’ve been dying to take you.”

And that’s about the extent Louis gets of it before he’s been shoved towards their room to get dressed. Not even allowed to finish eating his sandwich.

The sun has just started to set as they step outside and it’s quite warm for a spring evening. As they walk towards to the front gate, Harry simply takes Louis’ hand into his. Louis bites his lip as a blush forms high on his cheeks. There is a taxi waiting just on the other side of the gate, which Harry must have called when Louis was changing.

“Where to lads?” The cabbie says in a thick London accent as they slide into the backseat.

“St Pancras, please,” Harry replies, taking Louis’ hand again once they’re settled into the seats.

“Harry,” Louis says slowly, drawing out the syllables as the taxi pulls away from the kerb. “Why are we going to St Pancras?”

Harry turns towards him, a sparkle in his eyes that Louis immediately doesn’t trust. “It’s such a gorgeous station, isn’t it?” Well that doesn’t answer his question at all.

“Yeah, sure. It’s great.” Louis narrows his eyes. “But we aren’t going anywhere right?”

Harry gasps obnoxiously, placing a hand over his heart. “Absolutely not. That would be against the rules.”

They make small talk with the driver for the rest of the journey and Harry pays him once they arrive at the railway station. As soon as they enter, Harry heads straight for the ticket office. Louis having to practically run to keep up with Harry and his giraffe legs.

It’s quite busy for almost six on a Sunday evening. Louis having to dodge out of the way of business men with their briefcases and women in high heels trailing rolling suitcases and children behind them.

Harry is already talking to a lady behind the desk when Louis finally catches up to him and he only hears the tail end of their conversation. “...next train to Brighton please.”

The lady nods as she begins to type something on her computer and few moments later, Louis hears the sound of tickets being printed out. His eyes widen when he finally realizes what is happening. “Harry,” he hisses. “You said we weren’t going anywhere.” Harry just waves him off so Louis turns on his heel and decides to wait for him outside of the office.

It isn’t long before Harry joins him, two train tickets in his hand. “The train leaves in about an hour,” Harry says in lieu of a greeting. “So wanna grab a bite to eat to kill some time?”

“You told me in the taxi that we weren’t going anywhere.” Louis is getting mad. He’s frustrated and a bit miffed at Harry for lying to him. This is something they were explicitly told not to do while they were on the show. The last thing Louis wants is to be this close to winning and losing it all because of something ridiculous like this.

“Louis honestly,” Harry says. “Why the fuck else would we come to a train station?”

“Then why did you lie to me?” Louis exclaims, the anger bubbling up out of him. Sometimes Harry just doesn’t fucking _think_ , always acting on a whim.

“Because I knew that you wouldn’t have come if I told you.”

“Well I’m not going.” He knows he’s acting stubborn, like a child having a tantrum. But he’s been working towards _Chopped_ for years and he’s not going to have it yanked out of his grasp for breaking the rules. No matter how much he’s come to really like Harry.

Louis can see Harry shuffling in his peripheral vision, brushing a hand through his hair. “Will you please take the stick outta your arse for one day?” Harry almost shouts and _that_ definitely grabs Louis’ attention. “I just really want to take you to Brighton, okay. Show you around my town. No one will know that we left. And even if they do, what is the worst that could happen?”

Louis can think of plenty that could happen, things that he really doesn’t want to think about. So instead he thinks about all this, about Harry randomly bringing him here and wanting to show him around where he lives. It’s almost _romantic_.

“Okay,” Louis agrees, stepping into Harry’s personal space. “Take me to your hippie town.” Harry’s mouth turns up in a smile, his dimple even making an appearance. “And buy me dinner. I’m starving because you didn’t let me finish that sandwich.” Harry barks out a laugh and Louis moves even closer to seal their lips together. He can feel Harry smiling against his mouth and his heart flutters.

Their little argument took a lot longer than Louis realized and they don’t have time to sit down and eat, so Harry buys them a few snacks and drinks from M&S Food to eat on the train. They settle onto an empty bench next to their platform to wait and Louis is already digging into bag of salt and vinegar crisps. Harry complains about his greasy fingers when they link hands walking down the aisle of the train to find seats and Louis throws a crisp at the back of his head.

They ride in silence, happy just to snuggle close to each other while they eat. The trip seems shorter than it actually is, and before Louis knows it they train is stopping at their destination. They grab their things and get off the train.

As soon as they step out of the station Louis can already smell the salt in the air from the sea. Harry must notice because he says, “The beach is only a mile away in that direction,” he points to their left. “We can go there later if you’d like, but there’s somewhere else I want to take you first.”

Harry leads him through the car park and stops next to a white van, pulling out the keys from his pocket. It’s one of those Mercedes worker vans with a giant purple bird painted on the side. Louis can’t remember the type of bird that it is, but it looks familiar, like the kind that everyone and their nan gets tattooed on them.

“This your car?” Louis asks.

Harry laughs as he unlocks the car. “Kind of. It’s my work van. What we use when we cater events. I worked the morning before I left for the show, so it was just easier for me to drive this here instead of my actual car.”

“So your restaurant hasn’t been catering while you’ve been gone?”

“No,” Harry gives him an odd look. “We have more than one van, Louis.”

“Right, of course.” Louis shakes his head to try and get rid of the blush creeping up on his cheeks. “Stupid question.”

Harry drives them through the town, Louis watching out of the window as they pass by little beach houses and cute shops and quite a lot of people out about this late at night. He’s actually surprised by how much it doesn’t look like a typical seaside town.

Finally, Harry is pulling into a parking spot on the side of the road next to several small stores and restaurants. “Ready?” He asks.

Louis has no clue what Harry is asking him if he’s ready for, but he finds himself agreeing anyway. “Yeah.”

He hops out of the van to join Harry in front of the restaurant they parked next to. It looks closed. All the lights are of and there’s not a single person inside. And it’s nautical as fuck. Blue and white striped tablecloths over each table, anchors, ancient looking helms, and compasses covering basically every surface, and what looks like a giant mermaid painted on the far wall. All the chairs have fishing net tied around the back of them. It’s small, about a fourth of the size of Louis’ own restaurant, but it looks cozy.

He tilts his head up to read the name above the door. _Sparrow’s Way_ is written on a white banner with two purple sparrows carrying the ends in their mouths. Sparrow. That’s the kind of bird that’s on the side of Harry’s van. Louis squints to try and get a better look at the birds carrying the banner. It almost looks as if they have _eyebrows_. Birds don’t even have eyebrows. Do they?

“What is this hippie shit?” Louis asks after they’ve just been standing in front of the restaurant for a few moments. “Were you wanting to eat here? It looks like they’re closed, love.”

Harry smiles that smile that makes Louis think that he’s up to no good. “Well, good thing I have a key.” He takes one of the keys on his key ring and sticks it into the lock on the door. Sure enough, it turns and he’s opening the door, holding it open for Louis. And then it clicks. Why the bird on Harry’s van and the bird on the name of the restaurant are the same. _This_ is Harry’s restaurant. And Louis just called it shit.

He steps inside and stands beside one of the tables as Harry locks up the door again. “Hey, I’m sorry for calling this place hippie shit.”

Harry just laughs, not seeming to be bothered in the slightest. “That’s okay. You aren’t the first person to say that. It is pretty hippie. I mean, look at it.” He waves his hand around the room. “But it’s my baby. Do you want the tour?”

It doesn’t take too long, just the dining area and the kitchen in the back, but the way Harry talks about everything makes Louis’ heart swell. His whole face is lit up, his hands gesturing wildly, and his smile never falters. Louis can tell this place really is his pride and joy. They’re both leaning against one of the work surfaces in the kitchen as Harry talks away animatedly.

“You ever fuck in here?”

Harry literally squawks. Just this awful honking noise that shouldn't be endearing but it is. And Louis thinks this is the moment. This right here. Where his lips are curling into a smirk and Harry is looking at him like he’s an idiot. Standing in the kitchen of Harry’s hippie restaurant in the middle of the night. Having broken about a million different rules by leaving the studio in London. At any moment they could be caught and disqualified. Louis’ dream over forever. Yeah, this is it. This is the moment that Louis falls in love with Harry.

It’s crazy. They’ve only known each other a month. It shouldn’t be possible, but somehow it is. Louis knows it, can _feel_ it. Maybe he should be scared, a little worried even, but he's not. Because everything suddenly makes sense. Why he's always felt warm and safe in Harry's presence. How the stress of the competition seemed like nothing as long as he knew Harry was there. Explains the reason why he always had that warm, tight feeling in his chest whenever he looked at Harry.

This boy so radiant and wonderful, golden and bright, with a heart too big for the world. This boy who is so passionate and so _good_. Yeah, Louis loves him. There’s no doubt in his mind that he’s in love with Harry. It kind of feels like the ground has dropped out from under him and he’s falling, helpless. But it’s okay because he knows Harry will be there waiting for him at the bottom.

“Absolutely not,” Harry says. “That is highly unsanitary.”

“Well what about on one of the tables in the dining room?” Louis suggests as an alternative.

Harry narrows his eyes at him. “Louis no. We are not having sex in here.”

Louis’ smirk grows as slowly walks towards Harry and lifts up the bottom of his shirt. He has to stifle a laugh when Harry’s eyes widen comically.

Harry closes the distance between them and places a hand on Louis’ wrist, stopping him. “If you get naked right now, I’m taking all your clothes and locking you in here and going back to London without you.”

“You’re no fun,” Louis pouts.

They leave Harry’s restaurant shortly after that and Harry drives them by his flat. The building is small. Three stories and probably only holds about twelve flats total. It’s all white except for the two bright red front doors. There’s a small fenced in garden just to the right of the building. It’s quaint and exactly the kind of place Louis would have imagined Harry living.

The beach is the final stop before they head back to London. They walk hand in hand along the water and Louis’ heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of his chest. This is the cheesiest most cliche date, if this could even be considered a date, but he couldn’t be happier. They end up staying in Brighton longer than expected and they don’t make it back to the house until almost two in the morning. 

\--

He can’t sleep. It’s the night before possibly the biggest day of Louis’ life and he can’t sleep. Typical. Next to him, Harry is snoozing away happily, emitting soft little snores every few seconds. Louis sighs and rolls onto his back. He’s desperate for a smoke. He climbs out of bed and pulls on jeans and a hoodie before slipping a cigarette out of his almost empty pack and sticking it behind his ear.

Tiptoeing as quietly as he can, so he doesn’t wake Harry, he makes his way to the front door. Normally, he sits on the porch swing when he comes out front for a smoke, but tonight he’s itching with anticipation for tomorrow and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sit still for long.

He hasn’t seen much of the grounds besides the house and the studio, so he decides to take a little impromptu tour. He walks along the main street until he comes to a little path in between two buildings. At the end of that path is a little courtyard with a trickling fountain in the middle surrounded by benches. On one of those benches is Leona. Her blonde hair piled atop her head as always and a cigarette between two of her fingers.

“What are you still doing here so late?” Louis asks as he takes a seat on the opposite end of the bench she is sitting on.

“I live here.” She laughs when Louis looks at her with wide eyes. “Just during filming. There’s some flats on the top floor of this building.” She points to the building behind them. “They aren’t as glamorous as your house, but it’s nice not to have to drive back and forth from home every day.” Louis nods as he leans against the back of the bench and props his feet up on the edge of the fountain. “So what are you doing up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Needed a smoke.” Louis takes the cigarette from behind his ear and brings it to his lips, lighting it. He relaxes further into the bench when he feels the smoke fill his lungs.

“Wanna talk about it?” Leona continues when silence falls between them.

“Talk about what?”

“Harry.”

He sits up a little bit at that. He hasn’t been that obvious, has he? “I’m not sure—” He stops when he sees the look Leona is giving him. “No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Leona nods and softly pats his knee, her bright red nails standing out against the dark denim of his jeans. “Well I’m here if you change your mind.”

The smokes swirls off then end of his cigarette and Louis watches as it makes shapes in the dark before disappearing entirely. And he thinks of Harry. He loves him. It didn’t come as much of a surprise when he finally put it together in his head, but he’s still afraid of what he is supposed to do now.

“I’m in love with him,” he whispers into the night.

Silence stretches on between them for so long he’s not sure if Leona even heard him. He’s definitely not going to repeat himself. That’s the first time he’s ever said those words out loud, and frankly it was quite terrifying.

“I know you are,” she says finally.

He sharply snaps his head towards her, a look of shock on his face. “How?” He sputters. “I didn’t even find out until yesterday.”

“You’re quite obvious about it, love,” she laughs, a shit eating grin playing on her lips. “You look at him like the sun shines out of his arse. It’s quite cute though. Have you told him how you feel?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“How come?” Louis can tell that she isn’t pressing and he appreciates that so much. She asks it in a way that is less about her wanting to know the answer and more about how she knows talking about it will help him.

Louis watches the water trickle across the surface of the fountain before he answers. “I was in love once before. Well, I thought I was at the time. I was nineteen and had been dating this guy for almost a year. I loved him and I thought he loved me back, but he didn’t. It ended badly and I felt like total shit for months afterwards. I don’t want something like that to happen again.” He takes another pull of his cigarette, holding the smoke in a little longer than normal before blowing it back out. “I highly doubt that will happen with Harry because with him—I know this is the most fucking cliche thing to say, but I’ve never felt like this about someone before. The way I felt about my ex is absolutely nothing compared to how I feel for Harry. It’s fucking scary.”

“He feels that way about you too.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, he looks at you the same way you look at him. That boy is arse over tea kettle for you.” Leona stubs out her own cigarette against the edge of the fountain and then props her feet up next to Louis’. “Love isn’t easy. If you feel like it’s meant to be, you just have to take a deep breath and dive in head first. And if you aren’t at least a little bit scared shitless, then it’s not right.”

They don’t say anything after that, just sit together until Louis finishes his smoke, the only sound the splashing of water. It feels like he just had a heart to heart with his sister instead of someone he just met a month ago. But then again, he’s _in love_ with someone he just met a month ago, so he guesses it isn’t all that crazy.

“Thank you for listening to me,” Louis says, standing up to head back home, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“Of course, Lou. Anytime.” He turns to leave but doesn’t get very far before Leona is calling out to him. “Good luck tomorrow. No matter what happens you’re amazing and talented and I’m so proud of you.” She pulls him into a tight hug. “And good luck with Harry too. Things will work themselves out with you two.”

By the time he makes it back to the house, he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Maybe having all of that bottled up inside him was keeping him awake. Harry is still fast asleep, but he’s seemed to have moved further on to Louis’ side of the bed in his sleep. When Louis sees him, his heart does that crazy fluttering thing again, but this time he isn’t freaked out by it. It feels normal, meant to be. He climbs into the bed as carefully as he can and falls asleep within a matter of minutes. 

\--

The following morning Louis wakes up alone and has an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t pay much attention to it, just thinks it’s due to nerves about what today has in store. He finds Harry in the real kitchen making what looks like eggs benedict.

“Morning,” he grumbles, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Good morning,” Harry greets back. “I got a call this morning saying that the filming for today is going to be pushed back a few hours due to some technical difficulty.” Louis nods, feeling a little annoyed at that. He’s nervous enough as it is, but having to wait is just going to make it worse. “You nervous about today?” Harry continues as if he was reading Louis’ thoughts.

“Yeah,” Louis responds. “More nervous that I thought I would be.” Louis wants to win, wants it more than anything. Well, he did before Harry became a thing. And now if he does win, he’ll just feel guilty that he took that from Harry. He’s conflicted

“Me too,” Harry agrees quietly.

They eat breakfast together and spend most of the day cuddled together on the sofa watching telly with bowls upon bowls of popcorn. _Finally_ there’s a knock on the front door and it’s time. It’s way past when they would usually film. It was pushed back way more than a few hours.

Leona is waiting for him outside as usual. They don’t banter on the way over to the studio like they normally do, she just gave him a tight smile when he first got into the golf cart and a good luck hug when he gets out.

Everything goes as it always has once they make it inside; they change into their jackets, get a bit of makeup done, and then they’re walking out into the kitchen. It feels different this time, not as stressful. Louis feels like a completely different person than he did during the first round.

The crew quickly sets up around them, Ted and the judges are walking out to join them. This is it. The final round. The last time Louis will prepare something on _Chopped_. He can’t believe that he actually made it this far in the competition. He can’t believe his dream finally came true. But that uneasy feeling he had this morning comes creeping back and he can’t shake it this time.

They are told to face each other before this round and Louis’ lips twitch up at the corners when he locks eyes with Harry. He knows he’s not supposed to smile, supposed to look menacing because they are competing against each other after all. But how can he not smile when he’s looking at Harry?

“Chef Louis, Chef Harry,” Ted says. Louis didn’t even realize they had already started. “The dessert round is upon us. Congratulations on making it this far. Please open your baskets.” Louis turns towards his work station and opens up the basket. “Your ingredients are; chocolate puff cereal, peanut butter, dried chipotle chilies, and apple juice.” Easy. Louis already knows what he’s going to make. Chocolate puff cereal is one of his guilty pleasures. “You have thirty minutes for this round which starts right now.”

[](http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/antwoodhm/media/1_zpsrfgnnpbh.png.html)

Immediately, he starts crushing up the cereal until it's basically a powder and dumps that into a large mixing bowl. He grinds the chipotles as best as he can until they resemble somewhat of a powder as well and adds them to the bowl. He rushes into the pantry and grabs sugar and butter and all the other ingredients necessary to make brownies. There's only thirty minutes in this round, a few of which have already gone by, and he hopes he can make up this batter quick enough to get it into the oven with plenty of time to bake. With twenty-two minutes remaining, Louis is sliding the brownie batter into the oven. He prays they can cook all the way through.

Now onto the peanut butter. Thankfully it’s creamy because Louis is going to use it to make ice cream. He has heard all the horror stories that come with making ice cream on _Chopped_ , he’s personally seen the tragedies play out on the television screen from the comfort of his own living room, but he’s feeling confident. This isn’t his first time making ice cream.

There’s a few of the ingredients he needs already sitting atop his work station thanks to the brownies. He dumps the entirety of the jar of peanut butter into the bowl, adds sugar, salt, and just a splash of vanilla, creaming that together until it’s smooth. Next comes in the milk and whipping cream, he blends that together before running over to the ice cream machine.

After getting that started, he turns to check the time. Fifteen minutes left. How is that even possible? There was twenty minutes when he last checked, which only felt like thirty seconds ago. That’s not nearly enough time for his ice cream to get thick enough and he starts to get worried.

But that’s nothing compared to the sinking feeling he gets in his stomach when he returns to his work station and sees the apple juice sitting off to the side. He’d completely forgotten about it. And how the hell is supposed to incorporate that with the rest of his dessert? Louis contemplates it for far too long before finally deciding on making a sauce to put on top of the ice cream. Peanut butter and apples go together, right?

He opens the bottle and tastes it. It’s far too sweet. He pours a little into a saucepan and adds a bit of vinegar to reduce the sweetness. He also tosses in some apple pie spice, vanilla, at a last minute decision of icing sugar, to thicken it up a bit. He turns the heat on low to keep it warm and hopes that it doesn’t taste awful.

Ted announces only five minutes remaining and Louis panics. He checks on his brownies, which seem to be cooked from the outside, but he can’t let them cook any longer. He needs time for them to cool off before he puts the ice cream on top. He pulls them out and places them in the fridge to help them cool even faster and then checks the ice cream. He uses his finger to taste the first bit that comes out and it’s _perfect_. Exactly the thickness he was looking for.

The only thing to do next to is plate everything. On his way back around the corner from grabbing bowls, he almost runs right into Harry. For that one brief second he forgets about everything and it’s just him and Harry. Without even thinking, Louis mutters a soft “sorry babe” along with a squeeze to his hip. When he turns around everything comes crashing back. The other people in the room, the _cameras_. They’re not alone. All it takes is one look from Harry and Louis literally forgets about the rest of the world. He’s in way too fucking deep. Thankfully, his back was to the camera during their little exchange and they weren’t able to pick up anything.

Louis retrieves his brownies from the fridge and begins to plate. He cuts them into squares and places on in the bottom of each bowl and puts a scoop of the ice cream on top. He takes whatever the hell this apple mixture is that he made off the stove and uses a spoon to drizzle some over the ice cream. It smells incredible. With just a few seconds left, Louis sticks a couple of the remaining cereal puffs into the top of the ice cream just for aesthetics.

Just as he’s placing the last one in, Ted calls time. Louis puts his hands in the air and steps back, finally releasing the breath he was holding for the entire thirty minutes. It’s over. That’s the last time he will make a dish on Chopped. He’s been dreaming about this for years and he feels underwhelmed, apathetic almost. It’s all in the hands of the judges now.

He shares a small smile with Harry as they’re shoved off to the side to allow the crew to come in and clean up before they’re judged. The makeup team rushes in to wipe away the sweat from their faces and apply more powder. Louis feels like he can’t even move his face from the amount of makeup that’s been spread all over it. How do people wear this shit everyday?

Now that he knows the cameras aren’t rolling, Louis steps into Harry’s personal space. “How are you feeling?” He asks in a whisper.

“Nervous as fuck,” Harry says.

Louis chuckles quietly, trying not to draw any attention to them. “Me too.” They are tucked far enough into the corner that Louis could probably just lean forward and kiss him. He desperately wants to, just pull Harry close and tell him how insanely proud of him he is. But he doesn’t want to risk it this close to end.

Before long they’re being called up to the judges table. As Louis walks towards it, he feels like he’s being pushed forward on the plank of a pirate ship, about to jump into the murky shark infested waters below.

Harry’s dessert is sitting in front of the judges and it’s gorgeous. Harry really is an incredible chef, even as young as he is, and Louis’ heart swells reminding him yet again how proud of Harry he is. As if he could ever forget.

“Chef Harry,” Ted says. “You’re up first.”

“I’ve made an apple filled empanada,” Harry starts. “With a peanut butter dough, half of which has been dipped in chipotle infused chocolate. And a little dollop of cream on top which also has a little kick of chipotle.”

To anyone else, Harry would look the definition of cool, calm, and collected, but since Louis has spent the better part of the last month living in Harry’s pocket, he can tell otherwise. From the little crinkle between his eyebrows, the way his feet are pointed more inwards than they usually are, from how tightly his hands are clasped behind his back. He really is nervous and Louis wishes more than anything that he could comfort him.

Finally a judge speaks up. “This is delicious. I love that you put pieces of real apple into the empanada. It just gives it that much more texture. And you can really taste the peanut butter in the dough. The chocolate is heavenly, I could go on about that for hours. Although, I appreciate that you hand made the cream, I didn’t get any chipotle in that at all.”

The other two judges say something very similar. They loved it. Harry’s got this in the bag. The cameras turn off so Harry’s plates can be cleared away and replaced with Louis’. He reaches across the space in between them and gives Harry’s hand a quick squeeze. He mouths a ‘good job’ when Harry turns to him and he gets a smile in response, even though it seems a little forced.

Ted saying his name pulls him out of his little bubble. It’s his turn and he’s significantly less nervous than he was a few moments ago. “I have prepared for you a chocolate chipotle brownie, topped with peanut butter ice cream, and drizzled with a little apple sauce.”

Silence stretches on longer now than it did during Harry’s dish and Louis’ not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“This ice cream is beautiful,” the judge comments. “Probably one of the best ice creams I have ever tasted. It’s thick and creamy, just perfect. I was a little worried when you went to the ice cream machine with barely fifteen minutes left, but it worked well for you. You put just enough chipotle in the brownie that you don't get that little kick of spice until afterwards. But I think because you were a little pressed for time, the brownie is a tad bit uncooked in the middle. And I’m afraid I don’t really understand the apple drizzle you did on top. It just feels a little disjointed.”

His heart dropped into his stomach when he heard the comment about his uncooked brownie, but overall, that went better than Louis was expecting.

“The judges have a tough decision to make. Place give them some time.” Ted says.

They’re sitting a little too closely to be considered platonic once they’re in the holding room, but honestly Louis doesn’t even care anymore. He needs to be close to Harry right now. They only talk about the things they are required to, the same things they’ve had to talk about the last two rounds.

After what feels like hours, they’re being lead back out to the judges. Either his or Harry’s dessert is sitting underneath the cloche that Ted is holding the handle of. Louis already has a feeling of whose it is.

He was right. It’s his dish under the cloche. “Chef Louis, you have been chopped.”

Even though he had imagined this scenario after each round, he feels completely different to how he originally thought he would. He’s not all that disappointed, he’s actually _okay_ with it. Harry deserves it.

It hits him then. Harry just _won_. Harry just fucking won _Chopped_. Louis turns to him, sees him biting his lip to suppress a smile, and his heart bursts with pride. Before Louis can congratulate him, before he can say something in front of all these people he’ll most likely regret, the judge’s voice bring his attention back to them.

“Although all of your dishes tasted great, there were little inaccuracies with each one. The soggy wontons from your appetizer, the inconsistency of your entree, and the raw brownie in your dessert. And for that reason we had to chop you. You are an exceptional chef and it’s been a real pleasure to have you cook for us.”

“I understand,” Louis nods. “Thank you so much for the opportunity. This has been one of the greatest experiences of my life.”

For multiple reasons. He loves to cook, loves food, loves being in the kitchen, so much that he made a career out of it. He got to compete on television against three other incredibly talented chefs, had the food he made eaten by three people he’s looked up to and admired for years. It’s the most indescribable feeling. But the main reason why he’ll never forget this experience, the main reason why it’s been so amazing, the reason he wasn’t expecting in the slightest, is standing right next to him.

Finally he is able to fully face Harry and he’s let his smile show. He’s smiling so wide, just beaming and lighting up the whole damn room. “Congratulations,” Louis says, pulling Harry into a hug, which he goes into easily.

Louis slumps forward into him. Breathes in his smell that has a lot more peanut butter in it than normal. Savors they way they fit together so perfectly. He moves his mouth up to Harry’s ear and whispers lowly so their mics won't pick it up, just loud enough for only him to hear. “I love you.”

He hears the sharp intake of air from Harry and feels him go still in his arms before he steps back. Harry’s just staring at him. A complete blank look on his face. Showing no expression whatsoever and Louis pretends that his heart doesn't sink at that.

Louis realizes he needs to move. They’ve been standing here in silence for far too long and he needs to move before things get even more awkward. He walks back towards the holding room and is ushered inside to give his final interview. He goes through the overview of the dish he made, says how grateful he is for being on the show, and congratulates Harry.

Leona is waiting for him in the golf cart outside and she must take the look on his face to mean that he didn’t win. She gives him a hug and apologizes, tells him that he’s a phenomenal chef. The thing is, Louis isn't even upset about losing. Of course he desperately wanted to win, would have loved to have won, but he’s so happy for Harry. Excruciatingly so.

He just confessed his love to Harry. Obviously it wasn't the most opportune time to let those feelings out, but Harry didn't do anything to show that he feels the same way. He just looked empty.

When Louis makes it back to the house he heads straight for bed. It’s still early, but after everything today he’s exhausted. He knows that Harry is going to be tied up doing final interviews and won't be back for awhile.

He’s still awake when he hears the bedroom door open. “Lou, you awake?”

He knows it's stupid, but he keeps his eyes shut and pretends to be asleep. He feels a pang in his chest when Harry lets the door shut and doesn't get into bed with him. 

\--

The next morning feels different. More. Heavy. Like Louis’ got the weight of the world sitting on his shoulders. He's going home today, but he doesn't ever want to get out of this bed.

Eventually he does though and packs up everything into his suitcase after he's taken a shower. He's a little reluctant to leave the room, the rest of the house is quiet and he can't tell if Harry is up yet, but he knows he'll have to face what he did yesterday when he sees him. He’s not quite sure how he feels’ about that. He doesn’t regret telling Harry how he feels, not in the slightest, he’s just a little worried about whether Harry will reciprocate those feelings or not.

Sighing, Louis pulls open the bedroom door and walks down the hallway towards the living room. And there's Harry, fully dressed and sitting on the sofa eating a bowl of cereal. His bags are packed and sitting at his feet. As if he was hoping to leave quickly before Louis noticed.

He makes sure to be extra noisy when he enters the room so Harry knows he's there, so he doesn't have to be the first one to say anything. He’s got about a million and one things jumping around inside his head, but he doesn't even know what to say.

“Morning,” Harry greets cheerily around a mouthful of cereal. A bit of milk dribbles down his chin and his tongue pokes out to lick it up. “Excited to go home? You get to see Winston again. I bet he's missed you.”

Louis frowns. Harry seems _normal_. Like nothing happened. Like Louis didn't just make the biggest confession of his life yesterday. Well he's certainly not going to bring it up if Harry isn't. He slumps down in the armchair opposite the sofa. “Yeah, actually. I’ve missed that little bastard quite a bit, not really sure about him missing me though.”

Harry laughs at that, tipping his head back a bit showing off the long, beautiful line of his throat. Louis wants to touch, pull him close and never let him leave. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, and he’s a little scared about that. He doesn’t want to not have Harry in his life. Either way this goes, they’ll be going back to their separate towns, back to their jobs, no idea when they’ll be seeing each other again, if at all. This feels weird. Them sitting here like this. Like they didn’t spend the last month getting to know each other inside and out. And Louis needs _something_. Needs to know whether he’s in this alone or not.

He’s about to ask Harry if he’s willing to give them a chance when Harry’s phone goes off. “That’s my Uber,” Harry says. “My train is leaving in about an hour, so I should really get going.” The words Louis was about to say dies in his throat as he watches Harry stand, smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt, and takes ahold of the handle of his suitcase. “It was really nice to meet you, Lou.” He says that like they just met yesterday. Like Louis isn’t fucking in love with him.

Harry hesitates for a second before he walks slowly towards the front door. Right as his hand comes in contact with the doorknob, Louis stops him. “Wait.” Harry’s hand falls away from the knob and he turns to face Louis. “Could I maybe get your number?”

A smile spreads across Harry’s face and he nods. He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his phone and handing it over to Louis. He adds himself as a new contact, contemplates adding some emojis just to confuse Harry, but ends up just putting _Lou_. He sends himself a text so he’ll have Harry’s number as well and he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

“Well,” Louis says as he hands Harry back his phone. “Have a good trip. Text me when you get home?”

“Of course. I'll have to hit you up next time in London. Maybe you can show me your restaurant.”

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “I’d like that.” Without thinking, he reaches out and pulls Harry into a hug, melting into it like he always does. Harry’s a little hesitant to wrap his arms around Louis but eventually he does and that has an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of Louis’ stomach. “Bye Harry.”

Harry steps away from the hug and opens the front door. “Bye Louis. I guess I’ll see you around.” And then he’s turning and walking through the door and closing it behind him.

Louis isn’t sure how long he stands there staring at the closed door. It feels as he just watched half of himself walk away. He feels empty and he hates that he feels that way.

He walks back into the living room to see Harry’s empty cereal bowl on the coffee table and he almost breaks. That’s it. He grabs his suitcase and rushes out of the house as fast as he can, wanting to get as far away from here as possible.

The first thing Louis does when he gets back to his flat, is pick up Winston from his neighbour. He’s a little timid when she places him into Louis’ arms and Louis knows it’s only because he’s upset that he had stay with the neighbour for so long.

He spends most of the night moping around his flat and trying to get Winston to love him again. It’s a little bittersweet being back, he’s excited to go back to work, but he misses Harry something fierce. But at least there’s nothing here that Harry has touched, nothing that reminds him of Harry. He just needs to get his stupid brain to stop thinking about him.

Speaking of Harry, his phone dings with a new text from him. _Made it home safe and sound._

That’s it. That’s all it says. No smiley face, no emojis, nothing. Just a simple statement that is very unlike Harry.

Louis unlocks his phone and stares at the little grey bubble. _I love you_ , he types but immediately deletes. It would just be stupid to send that. _I miss you_. No, that’s not going to work either. Everything that he wants to say to Harry, he can’t bring himself to actually say, or type. Eventually he just settles on sending _Good. Same here._ before tossing his phone onto his kitchen table so he doesn’t have to think about it anymore. 

\--

Waking up alone and in his own flat is a little jarring. At first he’s confused, expects to see Harry lying next to him and the white walls of the _Chopped_ house instead of the pale blue of his bedroom, but slowly it comes back to him.

Sighing, Louis sits up in his bed and almost kicks Winston off, who is curled up at the foot. Just another reason for him to be pissed. He showers, feeds himself and Winston, and then doesn’t really know what else to do. He doesn’t have to be back at work until tomorrow and surely he did things on his days off before. Granted, he doesn’t get many days off, chooses not to, he’d rather be at work than not. He still can’t get his mind off Harry.

An absolutely crazy idea pops into his head and he fires up his laptop to look into the details. He shoves a few things he may need into a backpack and takes Winston’s crate out of the cabinet in the laundry room. Louis isn’t sure how long he’s going to be gone and he definitely isn’t leaving Winston with the neighbour again. He goes into the crate fairly easily after Louis tosses in his favourite mouse toy. Louis grabs his bag along with his keys, and then he’s out the door.

Just a few hours later he’s pulling up outside the familiar restaurant, but this time it’s packed. Louis can see through the window that there is people around every single table and there’s a queue forming outside down the sidewalk. This place must be fucking good.

He asks his Uber drive to wait for him while he runs inside and leaves Winston in the backseat. The little bell jingles as he pushes open the door and the girl behind the hostess stand smiles warmly at him.

“This a regular Thursday night for you?” he asks.

“It’s a bit slower than it usually is. You don’t want to see what it’s like on the weekends.” Her smiles widens, the little nametag pinned to her shirt reads _Crystal_. She’s quite cute, almost like a female version of Harry. “Are you dining alone or are you meeting someone? I’m afraid the wait is going to be about forty-five minutes, if that’s alright.”

“Actually,” Louis says. “I’m not here to eat. I was just wondering if maybe Harry was working?”

The smile on Crystal’s face fades into a small frown. “No, I’m sorry. He’s not here. He worked this morning and has already left for the day.”

Louis’ heart sinks at that. This was his only hope, the only way he’d be able to talk to Harry. “Alright. Well, thank you anyway. Have a good night.”

“You too,” he hears her call after him as he’s walking out the door.

He climbs back into the car and is just about to ask the driver to take him back to the station when he remembers. Harry drove him by his apartment building when they were here. He has no idea what the address is, doesn’t even know what direction it’s in from the restaurant. But he describes it as best as he can to his Uber driver and luckily he knows exactly where it is.

Louis recognizes the little white building as soon as it comes into view. The small gravel parking lot in front of it is practically empty. His eyes scan over each one of the cars parked there and wonders which one is Harry’s, wonders if Harry is even home. What a total loss this would be if he came all this way and Harry isn’t even at his restaurant or his flat.

The gravel crunches underneath his feet as he steps out of the car and makes his way towards the building. He walks up the four cracked, concrete steps leading up to the bright right double doors and reads over the list of names printed on the intercom once he’s on the stoop. His heart picks up speed just by seeing _Styles_ written neatly right next to the button for flat number nine. He wills his heart to stop being stupid and reaches up to to press the button to buzz Harry, but at the last second he changes his mind and presses the button for number ten instead. He doesn’t want Harry to know he’s here until they’re face to face, too afraid that Harry won’t let him in.

“Hello?” Comes a voice crackling over the intercom.

“Hi hello. I have a delivery for a Mr. Styles in number nine,” Louis lies through his teeth, but feeling grateful that this person was home. “I buzzed him but he doesn’t seem to be in. Would you mind letting me up so I can leave the parcel in front of his door?”

“Yes, of course.” Louis hears the beep of the doors in front of him unlocking. “He’s the first door on your left on the top floor.”

“Thank you so much.”

The place is just as simple on the inside as it in on the outside. Dark green coloured walls with a white chair rail molding in the middle to brighten it up. Wooden doors with swirling golden numbers next to each indicating which flat is which. A large open staircase directly in front of him.

Louis takes the stairs up to the top floor and stops in front of the door with a curly number nine to the left of it. It’s a little crooked so he reaches out to straighten it, but mostly to buy him some more time. He sets Winston’s crate down next to his feet and takes a few deep breaths before he knocks.

It only takes a handful of seconds before the door swings open and there’s Harry. It’s been less than twenty four hours since Louis last saw him, but fuck he’s missed him so much. He wants to reach out and touch, pull him close, but he’s not sure if that would be appropriate right now. It’s funny how just yesterday he wouldn’t have even hesitated.

There’s a beanie pulled over Harry’s head and his hair must be up in a bun because none of it is poking out of it. He’s in a jumper that looks about two sizes too big for him, basketball shorts, white socks pulled all the way up to his knees, and a pair of trainers. He looks like a middle aged dad. On anyone else Louis would think this outfit was completely ridiculous, but of course Harry just looks insanely beautiful as always.

“Louis?” Harry says, the confusion evident in his voice.

“Hi,” Louis greets awkwardly. “I know it’s crazy, me just showing up here, but I needed to talk to you.”

“You couldn’t have just called?” Harry is still standing in the doorway not even having the door open wide enough for Louis to peek inside his flat.

“Yeah I guess I could have, but I wasn’t sure if you would answer or not,” he shrugs. “Plus I just really wanted to see you.”

“Lou, of course I would have answered.” He says it so, so softly that it makes Louis blush and feel like an utter idiot. “But I don’t—” he gasps sharply. “Is that Winston?”

Louis looks up from his feet to see Harry pointing at Winston’s crate with brightness in his eyes. “Oh, um, yeah. It is. He’s quite pissed at me right now because I left him with the neighbour while I was gone and he’s not very fond of her. I couldn’t bear to leave him with her any longer than I had to, so I brought him with me.”

“Can I hold him?” Harry asks, barely able to contain his excitement like a kid on fucking Christmas morning.

“Yeah sure,” Louis takes the handle on Winston’s crate into his hand and picks it up off the floor, causing him to meow slightly as it’s julted. “Do you mind if we do it inside though? I’m afraid if I open this out here he’ll bolt. Like I said he’s pissed at me and the bastard will take any chance he can get right now to get away from me.”

Harry laughs and Louis can’t believe how much he’s missed that sound. God, he’s pathetic. But Harry’s pushing open the door further and stepping aside to allow Louis to walk in. Harry’s flat is a lot smaller than Louis expected. A short hallway to his left, with mirrored sliding doors on both sides of it which Louis assumes are closets and a door at the end of the hallway that must be the bathroom. A half wall on his right is filled with framed pictures of Harry and two women who Louis recognizes as his mum and older sister. There’s a large window directly opposite of him that splits the bedroom and the living room. The headboard of a large bed is pressed against the far left wall with two nightstands on either side of it. Across the room from the bed is a flat screen television sitting atop an entertainment center facing a very comfortable looking black leather couch. On the other side of the half wall and to the right of the living room is the kitchen. The flat is nice; sparsely decorated but bright and welcoming.

Louis places Winston’s crate down in the empty bit of space between the bedroom and living room. He opens the little door and Winston warily pokes his head out. “Hey bud,” Louis says, scratching under Winston’s chin. “There’s someone here who would like to meet you.” He scoops him into his arms and hands him over to Harry. “He’s a cuddler so I’m sure you two will get along great. I mean, you are practically a cat.”

Harry, who was stroking along Winston’s back, falters for a second before looking up at Louis in shock. “I am not a cat.”

“Harry,” Louis says pointedly. “You literally purr whenever anyone touches your hair.”

Harry just huffs and sits down on the couch, letting Winston curl up in his lap. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

Right. No beating around the bush then. Louis’ not really sure what to do, if he should join Harry on the couch or not, so he just kind of awkwardly stands in the middle of the room, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. “I wanted to see you.”

“You said that already.”

He knows he already said that, but now that he is actually here, standing right in front of Harry, he’s a little nervous okay. He planned out this entire conversation in his head on the train, which he now seems to have totally forgotten. It’s as if it spilled right out of his ears and puddled up on Harry’s welcome mat as soon as he laid eyes on him. He’s tempted to open the front door and see if it’s sitting there waiting for him, typed up in Times New Roman and in MLA format. But he’s already been quiet for long enough that Harry is looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“I—” Louis starts, still having no fucking clue what he wants to says. Just going to be winging this whole thing apparently. “I want to make this work. Us I mean. Because I um, I love you.” Fuck, he wasn’t even that nervous to say it the first time. He feels his cheeks heat like he’s back in primary school talking to his crush, and he doesn’t dare look at Harry to see his reaction. He swallows down the damn nerves bubbling up in his chest. “I think we would be really good together. I _know_ we’re good together, because we were back in the house. You just make me really happy, Harry, and I want to be with you. Whatever it takes to make this work, I’ll do it. You said you were going to have me eating out of the palm of your hand. And well, it seems like you achieved that.”

The silence goes on for longer than Louis’ liking. He glances up at Harry when he can’t take it anymore and he’s still in the same position on the couch, scratching between Winston’s ears who is fast asleep. Louis is instantly jealous of him. He just gets to sleep right through this unnecessarily awkward conversation.

“Lou,” Harry sighs after what feels like hours and Louis already knows this is going to end badly for him. “I said eating out of the palm of my hand, not falling in love with me. This isn’t _A Walk to Remember_.”

Louis balks. “This isn’t what?”

Harry looks at him blankly. “ _A Walk to Remember_. It’s a Nicholas Sparks movie.”

Honestly, what the hell is Harry even talking about? “Never heard of it.”

Harry sighs again, still looking down at Winston in his lap. “I don’t see how we can do this with you being in London and me being in Brighton.”

“It’s a little over an hour on the train. That’s totally doable,” Louis counters, trying to keep the emotions out of his voice.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s going to work.”

“Seriously?” Louis bites out. He’s starting to get angry now. Harry isn’t even _trying_ while Louis’ practically ripping his heart out for him. “I was just someone to get off with then. I meant nothing to you.”

Harry pauses his hand on Winston’s back and _finally_ looks up at him. “Of course not, Louis. Don’t be ridiculous. I—” He bites his lip, cutting himself off. “I care about you. A lot. The distance is just going to be too hard.”

Louis balls his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. He’s too fucking tired to deal with this. To deal with Harry’s complete lack of interest. “So that’s it then?”

“We can still be friends.” Harry stands up from the couch and Winston yawns after being woken up by the movement before snuggling further into Harry’s chest. Since when did Louis become so jealous of a _cat_. “I would like us to still be friends.”

“Yeah, sure.” He watches as Harry puts Winston back into his crate. “I should get going anyway. I’m starting back at work tomorrow. I’m quite looking forward to it, to be honest.” It’s only five in the evening. He still has plenty of time to make it home and get a decent amount of sleep before he needs to be up for work, but he can’t really stand to be here—a place where he’s obviously not wanted—any longer.

“Oh that’s great,” Harry smiles, but it’s forced, doesn’t reach his eyes. “I started this morning. It was nice to get back into the swing of things.”

“Right. I’ll be off then.” He grabs Winston’s crate and his backpack from where he slung it in the corner of the room when he arrived. He tries not to look too eager to get the fuck out of here. He’s beginning to feeling suffocated. “I guess we’ll talk soon.”

“I hope so.” Harry’s voice comes from right behind him, following him to the door.

Louis doesn’t even say goodbye as he opens the door and walks away. He can hear Harry saying it as he turns towards the stairwell, but he doesn’t look back. He orders up an Uber on his phone as he goes down the stairs and once he makes it outside he stands and waits for his car on the sidewalk. He can feel eyes on his back, knows Harry is probably watching him out of his window, but he just tugs on the strap of his backpack and ignores the crushing feeling in his chest. 

\--

“Louis,” Emily, the night hostess calls into the kitchen, her head poking around the door. “There's a guest at table seventeen that would like to speak with you.”

“With me?” Louis points at his chest with the tongs currently in his hand.

Emily nods. “Yes. He asked for you specifically.”

Louis sighs and tosses the tongs into the sink. It's very rare for a guest to want to speak to him, but when they do, ninety nine percent of the time it's to complain about something. He's just returned to work, is finally getting back into the groove of things, just kind of sort of got dumped by his kind of sort of boyfriend, and he's _really_ not in the mood to listen to some old rich block go on and on about how his soup wasn't hot enough or the lettuce in his salad wasn't crisp enough.

He makes his way through the dining room towards table seventeen and there's a man sitting there by himself, his menu propped up in front of him. He's wearing a beanie and his back is towards Louis, but the way he's hunched over the table is oddly familiar. He can't see much more of the guy than that because some idiot thought the lighting in here should be dim for ambiance or some shit. Right, that idiot was Louis.

“Hello, I'm Louis, the executive chef. What can I help—what the fuck?” Louis’ heart starts jack-rabbiting in his chest when he finally sees the face of the person sitting at the table.

“Excuse you, but I don't think that's any way to speak to a paying costumer,” Harry says, mock affronted.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry shrugs and slowly moves his eyes across the words on the menu. “This place had some decent reviews on Yelp and the owner is pretty good in bed. Or so I've been told.” Louis scoffs internally. Pretty good. He's fucking mind blowing in bed. “Actually I'm here looking for a good location.”

“A location?” Louis asks.

“Yes, for another Sparrow’s Way.” Harry closes the menu and places it on the table, finally turning his attention to Louis. “I've been thinking about opening another location for a while now. I'm not sure if you're aware of this or not, but I've just recently come into quite a bit of money,” Harry’s lips twitch up at the corners like he's trying to suppress a smile, like he's proud of that. Louis tries not to roll his eyes. “That money could help me open up a new place. In London. I've found a spot in Kentish Town that looks pretty promising. I'm going to check it out tomorrow morning.”

“You want to open up one of your hippie restaurants in London?”

Harry nods. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Are you really that dense? Am I going to have to spell it out for you?” Harry stands up from the table and takes a step towards Louis. His heart's still pounding and he wouldn't be surprised if Harry could hear it. It's just. It's only been two days since Louis showed up at his flat, and he thought this was over for good. That the little thing they had was just something fun for Harry, something fun to keep his mind off the competition. But Harry is _here_ in his restaurant and Louis desperately wants to kiss him, even after being turned down by him two days ago. “I'm opening a new restaurant in London because I want to be closer to you. I want to be with you because I love you.”

Louis’ heart stops. Goes from beating a million miles a second to flat out stopping. He's been waiting for Harry to say those words to him, but now that he has Louis doesn't know what to do. He's literally stunned into silence.

“I will be in charge of this one and hand over the one in Brighton to my sous chef,” Harry continues. “Of course I’ll still have to visit from time to time, it is my baby after all, but I'll be here in London permanently.” He reaches out and winds his fingers with Louis’.

Louis can’t decide how he feels. As amazing at it is to hear Harry say those words, it doesn’t _sit_ right with him. Harry can’t just show up here and do this, especially at his work of all places. Louis shakes his head and snatches his hand out of Harry’s grasp. Admittedly, he could have done that a little less rough, but he’s hurt and confused.

“No,” Louis says, still shaking his head and looking down at Harry’s scuffed boots because he can’t bring himself to look at Harry’s face. He knows the second he does, he’ll just give in. He takes a step back to clear his head. “You can’t just show up here and say that you love me and think things will automatically work out. I tell you I love you and you act like nothing happened. Then I show up at your fucking doorstep and say that I’m literally willing do anything to make us work and you shut me down. I was rejected by you _twice_ and that hurts, Harry. I’m hurt. _You_ hurt me.”

Louis’ heart is beating in his throat and won’t stop even when he swallows. His eyes are stinging and he’s _not_ going to fucking cry, he’s stronger than that. He hasn’t cried over a guy since his ex and he’s not going through that again. When he finally gets the courage to look up at Harry’s face, he looks upset and dejected.

“I—I’m _so_ sorry,” Harry gets out weakly. “I love you so much, Lou. I'm sorry that I never told you before, I'm a right idiot. I acted like nothing happened when you first told me because I was terrified of how fast I fell for you. I know that's not an excuse, but I thought we would go our separate ways and I’d never see you again. When you came to my flat I almost said it, I almost did, but I was still scared.” He fiddles with the silver ring on his pointer finger, twisting it around and around. “You know how much my restaurant means to me, how important it is to me. But Louis, you mean so much more than my restaurant and that scares the fucking hell out of me because I’ve only known you for a short amount of time. I’m packing up my whole entire life and moving to be closer to you. I’m so sorry for not telling you how I felt from the beginning and I'm going to make up for it. I'll spend every day for the rest of my life telling you. If you'll have me. _Please_ have me.”

Harry blinks at Louis expectantly, a little nervous furrow between his eyes, and Louis’ torn. He can tell Harry means every word of what he just said and Louis does know how important that restaurant is to him and how hard he worked to get it started. Harry’s willing to do that all over again in a different city just for Louis. And, fuck, that’s a lot. But then he thinks about his ex and how shitty he felt after that ended and how shitty he’s felt since the second he left Harry’s flat yesterday and how _different_ those two feelings are. He thought he lost Harry once and he doesn’t particularly want to do that again. He has Harry here in front of him and he’s begging Louis for his forgiveness, so he says the only thing that makes sense. “Of course I'll have you.” He reaches out for Harry’s hand. “You already know that I love you.”

They stand there smiling at each other like idiots, their hands still entwined. Louis’ cheeks are hurting and there’s really tears in his eyes now but they’re happy tears. He can feel the eyes of people at the neighboring tables boring into his back, but he doesn't care.

“Are you going to eat? You can order whatever you'd like, completely on the house,” Louis says as he sits down with Harry at the table. He's had to have been out for at least twenty minutes now, but he's the owner. He can sit out here with his boyfriend (his boyfriend!) for as long as he likes and no one can say shit about it.

“I'm not sure.” Harry opens the menu and looks over it again. “Is the food here even that good? I mean, the chef couldn't even win _Chopped_.”

Louis gasps and Harry lets out that loud honking laugh of his which provokes a few heads to turn in their direction. They're causing a scene and Louis knows it. He's about to apologize but then Harry’s kissing him and Louis completely forgets he was going to say anything at all. He just kisses back with everything he's got and he couldn't be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! [Here](http://ireallysawanangel.tumblr.com/post/159807047864) is a little tumblr post I made that you can reblog if you'd like. And [here](http://louis-love.tumblr.com/post/159807456280/before-we-evaporate-by-crimsontheory-louis) is one that Alex made that you can also reblog. It would mean very much a lot to us. Kudos and comments are always welcome!
> 
> I'm [ireallysawanangel](http://ireallysawanangel.tumblr.com) on tumblr, so come say hi!


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